T'hy'la Tribbles
by Firegirl210
Summary: A collection of Drabbles, One-Shots, Two-Shots, Plot Tribbles and general Kirk/Spock fangirling in literature form. Some romantic slash, some friendship, some angst, some fluff, some K, some T, all Trek.
1. Enough is Enough

**Hey Trekkies! This is going to be a random collection of Tribbles, Drabbles, One-shots, occasional Two-shots, and all around rambling of a hopeless Kirk/Spock fangirl. **

**Some will be blatant slash, others implied, most non-physical interactions (probably no sexy times, sorry folks) because that is just the nature of the T'hy'la relationship.**

**This is listed as Star Trek: 2009 fanfiction but will also be taking elements from TOS. It's all one fandom and every new trekkie should watch TOS because it's the most wonderful thing ever. **

**I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing! **

**I don't own Kirk, Spock or anyone else in these fics. That right belongs to the genius mind of Gene Roddenberry himself, may his soul find everlasting paradise. **

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_This drabble is set during the events of Star Trek: Into Darkness. It DOES contain spoilers so if you haven't seen it, go do so right now! _

_Spock POV. _

_Drop a review if you find the time._

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**Enough is Enough**

I am not an emotional being. That is the basis of the philosophy which governs my life and action; control, suppression, intellect over impulse. To give in to anger is to be overcome by my people's former barbarism. To give in is to lose everything I am.

But this is too much.

"The ship?"

The voice comes out strained, weak. He is trying to be strong. I feel my jaw clench-if Jim can be strong in this moment then Gods dammit so can I.

"Out of danger," I reply, waves of emotion crashing and raging against the barrier which I have worked so diligently to construct.

The thin barrier separating us might as well be a thousand miles thick, and his blue eyes glisten with fear. I cannot help him, nor can I take his place.  
"I'm scared, Spock."

Another shard of ice hot emotion slices through the shields of my composure. I have never seen my Captain afraid. That he is admitting such weakness would be an expression of the utmost trust in my culture, in most cultures.

"Help me not to be."

And he needs me. This elicits a different streak of traitorous sentiment, the plea in my dying Captain's voice causing fear and anger and sorrow and desperation to rear up within me, a veritable cocktail of feelings that sets my judgement-and sanity-dangerously on edge. Now he is gazing up into the dark eyes of a Vulcan's, breath fogging the glass as fear wells up in the icy blue depths of his own. I can only wonder if he finds the comfort he desires there.

"How do you choose not to feel?" he implores, and I swallow hard, realizing with sudden clarity that I am absolutely powerless to help my captain. My friend.

"I do not know," I admit, and feel the hot burn of impending tears stinging my eyes. It is absolutely shameful for a Vulcan to cry-and right now I cannot care any less. My Captain is dying; I can feel ashamed of this emotional display later. If there is a later.

"Right now I am failing."

This admission is pulled from my lips before I realize what I am saying, and Jim draws another painful breath, the radiation in his skin granting him a nearly Vulcan complexion. Strange...even in death he is noble, stubborn, handsome, so very human in every way and so much more.

"I wanted you to know...why I couldn't let you die...why I went back for you..." he gasps, and I move closer instinctively, wishing for him to cease his struggling and lie still, to ease his pain.

"Because you are my friend."

Jim coughs, his forehead pressed against the glass that had saved the ship and sealed his fate. His hand moves painfully, slowly, and presses against the glass. One last goodbye, a final plea. Take care of them, Spock. They're in your hands now.

I reciprocate the motion, my palm just centimeters from Jim's, fingers spread in that Vulcan salute of respect and camaraderie. Live Long and Prosper. It is a useless gesture, and I know this. And yet I do it anyway, because I feel it is necessary. A purely emotional response.

And then James Kirk dies. Inches away from me, so close I can almost feel the radiation heat rising from his skin, close enough to watch the light fade from his eyes.

The turmoil swells violently in my chest, a single burning tear tracking down my cheek. Rage and disbelief and sorrow and loss and a staggering amount of grief hits me like a rampaging Sehlat. He have lost too much. Too fucking much. This is the final straw; enough pain, enough death, enough sorrow and anger and fatal emotion.

"KHAAAAAN!"

Enough is enough.

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**Thanks for reading bros and broettes. Stick around for some more drabbles coming your way ASAP.**

**Nemaiyo**

_I'm bleeding out_  
_So if the last thing that I do_  
_Is bring you down_  
_I'll bleed out for you_  
_So I bare my skin_  
_And I count my sins_  
_And I close my eyes_  
_And I take it in_  
_I'm bleeding out_  
_I'm bleeding out for you, for you._


	2. Oh Captain, My Captain

**qaleghqa'mo' jIQuch! Again, I don't own them or their copious amounts of subtext would have been more than subtext folks.**

**Read and enjoy!**

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_This fic is in Spock Prime's POV and is set sometime after the events of Star Trek: 2009 but before Star Trek: Into Darkness_

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**Oh Captain, My Captain**

The first time, I should have been there. It was a simple send-off; the Enterprise B's maiden voyage. I had been detained on my homeworld, and of course you told me not to fret. No chance of danger.

I should have known.

I felt it when you died. Across thousands of light years of empty space and empty worlds the destruction of our bond reverberated, shaking the planets and rattling the stars. Your consciousness was torn from mine with the force of a dying sun and I fell to my knees where I stood and wept. I wept as I would for no one else ever again; openly and with no reason for shame. For what shame is there in honesty? Honest, bone-wrenching grief is the most difficult kind to condescend.

I should have known better than to let you go alone. That decision quite possibly cost you, my Captain, your life. Oh Captain, my Captain...I have failed you. I am so sorry.

So for eighty years I lived on, putting my world back together and throwing myself into my work as Federation Ambassador. We saved planets, lives, civilizations-an attempt to make up for my failure to save you, perhaps. Doctor McCoy and Uhura seemed to think so, when they were alive. But they began to die, my human friends, falling victim to that most patient of all enemies; Time.

Montgomery Scott, Leonard McCoy. Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov, Nyota Uhura. They fell away into that all consuming darkness one by one until only I, S'chn T'gai Spock, remained.

And remain I did. I remained until that fateful day when I felt your presence, ever so faintly, as if the last eighty years had never happened and you were alive and well. As if you had simply been hidden from me. I felt the tug of your essence on the corners of my mind, and looked to the sky in wonder.

How could you be alive? After all this time?

Whatever the nature of the miracle-and although I do not believe in such things, what else could it be called?-it was real. I sent out communications immediately to any and all channels who could give me information on your whereabouts. I would find you, no matter what distant reaches of the Universe I had to traverse to do so.

And then, as suddenly as it had appeared, that flicker of contact for which I had so desperately yearned for so long vanished. Like a candle flame your existence in my world was verified and retracted by the ever fickle hand of fate. Another phenomenon in which I do not hold faith and yet am often forced to fall back on.

And what other name could I give to the black hole at the center of the Romulan Sun that transported Nero back dozens of decades to the exact moment of your birth?

Imagine my unending surprise to be thrown back through the eons of time and space only to cross paths with a younger, wilder, and very lost James Tiberius Kirk.

Although I do not believe in Destiny, I may be developing some form of Deism. Perhaps whatever God you pray to has taken pity on my broken soul and given me this chance to save you.

No...not save you. You've always been perfectly adept at doing that for yourself. Perhaps to guide you. Only my younger self can do this, protect you from that greatest enemy.

He will save you from yourself, but only if you act in kind.

I will watch you from a distance. This could, if one believes in such notions as Purgatory, be my personal penance for my deeds. I will wait until the darkness claims me too, and then oh Captain, my Captain, we will be together once more.

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**Yes I am shamelessly stealing the phrase from Dead Poet Society because it's the best movie in the world. Thanks for reading!**

**Live Long and Prosper!**

_Do you remember me?_

_Lost for so long_

_Will you be on the other side_

_Or will you forget me?_

_I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming_

_Am I too lost to be saved?_

_Am I too lost?_


	3. Your Soul and Mine

**Wow thanks for the favorites and follows and reviews guys! I'm really appreciative of your support and will try my best to continue cranking out these ridiculous drabbles!**

**Lucky for you I went to Denver Comic Con this weekend and saw William Shatner himself, so I'm all hyped up on Trek and have started a dozen of these things. **

**I had to write a drabble about kash-nohv because I am in love with the concept of a mind meld and all it entails. **

**Read, review, enjoy!**

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**Your Soul and Mine**

It begins with the butterfly soft touch of fingers. The middle finger to the temple, just above the ridge of the eyebrow; the index against the crest of the cheekbone; the thumb pressed into the hollow of the cheek.

Then, from the darker of the pair, a gentle inquiry, "May I?"

And from the lighter, a confident suggestion, "Yes."

.

His mind is open, and I close my eyes and lower my mental shields. I brush his consciousness tentatively, seeking repeated permission despite assurances on his part that I am in no way overstepping my boundaries. He desires this connection, this form of intimacy that he may not recognize the significance of, which I desire also.

Telepathic melding is not an experience comparable to any physical one. It feels like...floating, one's metaphysical form extending outwards into the Outer, the empty space around us where the electrical and psychological qualities interact without our knowledge. Stretching, reaching, searching until the outer edges of our aura-a cloud, a tendril, perhaps a hand-comes into first contact with the other person.

With James Tiberius Kirk, this first contact shot the blackness of the Outer through with sparks, stars bursting into existence in the dark. We bleed through the cracks of each other, rushing out into the space between us a if a dam had burst, and crashed together with the force of an exploding sun.

.

When I first close my eyes, nothing happens for a short while. I sneak an open peek at the Vulcan across from me, but his eyes are closed and his face holds an intensely focused expression, so I retreat into the darkness with a soft sigh.

Then I feel a sort of whisper, some inexplicable cross between a sound, a touch and a feeling of not being alone.

Spock? I think curiously, and suddenly my body is gone-or maybe I'm just separate from my body and it's only my mind flying up, up, at the speed of sound until I come to some kind of gentle stop. I can't call it space, because the constellations are all wrong for the sector of the galaxy in which we are currently flying and the stars don't really look like stars at all. On a closer inspection, I realise they are a million faces glittering in the backdrop of this place where I have no body and no pain and nothing but feeling and thought. Some of them I recognize; others I do not. Many of these strangers are Vulcan, and as I gaze up into the dark I become gradually aware that I am definitely not alone here-wherever here is.

I do the equivalent of turning around, feeling sort of like a jellyfish, and am abruptly buffeted by a whirlwind of light and sound. Images and impressions and feelings rush by in a swift river that seems like it should have substance, and I am immersed in them with a startling completeness until there is no separating myself from the presence, and I panic at first, trying to back away.

Jim, please calm yourself. It is me, a voice whispers, but it sounds just like Spock and reverberates through the space where we've come to. I realize suddenly that this cloud of thoughts and memories and feelings is Spock, broken down to the very basics and secrets that make him who he is. I am surrounded by him, but I can tell from his thoughts that come to me almost as easily as my own that he is also surrounded by me, and that there is no telling where one of us begins and the other ends.

.

Our thoughts flit by as we explore each other, tentatively revealing memories and feelings and opinions and so much more of ourselves than we have ever shared with another person. But as we do so, something amazing begins to happen.

This is revelation.

Age old pain of abandonment, ostracism, guilt, grief, rage, and hurt pours between us, but also the good things. All of our joy, relief, pride, friendship, contentment, victory and love is ours to share as well, and share we do for what feels like no more than minutes but could well be for an eternity. Perhaps the world has fallen away and everything we know is gone, but here in this quiet solitude there is no one but us, and nothing but our discovery of the being across from us.

This is togetherness.

We can no longer tell where James T. Kirk begins and S'chn T'gai Spock ends, nor the opposite, and we don't wish to make any distinction. We are one, in the most spiritual way possible, in a way that physical intimacy could never achieve.

This is peace.

Our souls intertwine, dancing with brilliant colors and thoughts and sounds and every moment we have had together and every moment that may still come.

This is happiness.

There is no shame in this place, and uninhibited we play like otters in the stream of our own consciousness, deep blue and gold swirling together.

This is joy, perfection in its most pure, basic form.

This is love.

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**Lesek! I love you readers.**

_Whenever I'm alone with you_

_You make me feel like I am home again_

_Whenever I'm alone with you_

_You make me feel like I am whole again_


	4. T'hy'la

**Sorry for all the Angst guys, here's a purely fluff and cuddles chapter! **

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**T'hy'la**

"Full speed ahead, steady as she goes then crew."

Jim smiled, warm and bright but with just enough softness that Spock knew inherently it was meant for his benefit alone. Another mission complete, the Enterprise safe, the time had come to relax for a few shifts before the next catastrophe struck.

Jim directs many such expressions of affection towards the Vulcan on the bridge, in the hallway, across the room on the rare occasions when their paths crossed in the mess hall...quite often. In fact, the gestures have become so commonplace in their time together-nearly five years now-that they no longer inconvenienced the Vulcan as distractions.

He found pleasure in their nature, as they are an indication of the Captain's preference for his company over that of nearly any other member of the crew. They served as a source of private pride for him, although he would never admit to such emotion aloud.

Spock tipped his head towards the Captain in reply, reciprocating in his own way, and Jim's eye glittered with something akin to triumph. Spock wondered sometimes if the human's solitary goal with his attention was reciprocation. He did enjoy drawing emotional responses from his first officer, and had a habit of vying for Spock's attention with all sorts of small actions and gestures, but not with the usual intention of a performance. Although Jim enjoyed being the center of attention in any setting, he seemed quite taken with the challenge posed by attempting to elicit some kind of positive response from his Vulcan Officer.

It was a game they played, a sort of dance, pushing to see how far they could go, to see more and more of one another. Kirk would bestow trusting smiles, lingering touches, laughter and acceptance on Spock, who would respond with a reciprocal nod, feather light brush of fingertips, teasing eyebrow quirk or the briefest hint of a smile in his eyes and around the corners of his lips.

If asked, Spock would most likely have been unable to identify the specific turning points in his relationship with James T. Kirk. When did they become friends? Animosity turned into begrudging respect which blossomed into something much more beautiful, the closest of friends, brothers even.

No...not friends any longer. Something much deeper and considerably more profound had grown in the static space between them, a sort of symbiosis which dictated they never remain apart for very long. Brotherly affection did not account for the uncanny ability they possessed for knowing exactly what the other was feeling, thinking or saying without explanation. Tighter than friends, closer than brothers, so...what?

"So what's your boyfriend been up to, Yeoman?" Kirk teased his young assistant, who flushed and stammered out an answer about the young ensign she was seeing.

Spock considered this very human term of endearment. Boyfriend: a regular male companion with whom one has a romantic or sexual relationship. That did not fit precisely either. True, they engaged in many of the conventionally romantic actions a couple would; they spent much time together, some in silence, some in activity and quite a lot in the companionable intensity of commanding a Starship; they talked about things that mattered and things that didn't, private words that could never be spoken to anyone and of the deepest intellectual and emotional topics.

They touched too, of course. Innocent brushes and chaste embraces; stolen kisses and the touch of two fingers behind chair backs and over panels; the occasional fiery nights of touch and taste and primal desire for one another.

But 'boyfriend' did not capture the real meanings of their feeling. It suggested a casual couple, an experimental relationship. Partner? Too impersonal, and it had a connotation of a working environment. Mate and Spouse held other issues, including the lack of any formal ceremonial tie between the two. Lover? Perhaps, but such a word indicated an overtly physical relationship, which theirs was not.

"Something on your mind Spock?"

The familiar voice startled Spock from his reverie, and he glanced up to see the blue eyes of his Captain sparkling with mirth as he caught his First Officer in an uncharacteristic moment of absent mindedness. The Vulcan's ears darkened slightly, and he offered a single raised eyebrow of innocence.

"Of course Captain; I am certain to have a minimum of fifteen different ideas which require my attention at any one time," he replied easily, and Jim rewarded his quick wit with a bright burst of laughter.

"Well our shift just ended. Would you like to join me in my quarters for a rematch? I believe the score still rests 124 to 378," he pointed out, and the two stood in synch, no further pressing needed. Chess could draw both of them off the bridge in the blink of an eye.

They strode down the hall side by side, shoulders occasionally brushing, exchanging few words because few were needed. This companionship...it was more than Spock had ever dared to hope for a beyond his imagination before he met this strange, incredible man, and feeling sentimental he turned to his Captain as they stopped before his door.

"T'hy'la," he uttered, and Jim turned with inquisitive eyes.

"Tuh-high...what Mr. Spock?" he clarified, and Spock's eyes softened surprisingly as he took a slow step closer to his Captain. Jim raised a hand, and Spock met his extended two fingers gently, his long neck curving as the Human came to rest chest-to-chest with the Vulcan.

"T'hy'la," Spock murmured, curling his fingers around Jim's, and the Captain looked up into his dark eyes thoughtfully, waiting for him to elaborate. He knew he would.

"It is a word in my language which I believe more accurately describes our relationship than any word in yours," he explained, and Jim nodded, brushing his thumb down the back of Spock's fingers tenderly.

"And what is the translation of this magic word?" he queried, eyes gentle and lacking their usual jest. Spock graced him with the ghost of a smile.

"Closest friend, brother, lover...soul mate," he added as an afterthought, but it was quite fitting as well, and Jim looked momentarily stunned. He stepped slightly away from their contact, breaking their link. After a few minutes of silence, he raised a hand to brush the backs of his fingers against Spock's brow. He had learned these Vulcan expressions of affection quickly and taken to them with a fervor.

"All those things in one word?" he asked, a bit of his joviality springing back into his eyes. Spock nodded, nervous that he could not feel what Kirk was feeling through their touch. That wandering hand found the back of Spock's neck and he was suddenly jerked forward into a burning kiss.

"T'hy'la was it?" Kirk rasped after a moment of very intense human affection, and Spock rested his forehead against Jim's and nodded, letting the things he felt but could not allow himself to speak flow between them.

_You are my T'hy'la, my everything, my soul and my mind and my heart. I would be lost without you._

And for Jim, it was the same, in fewer words.

_I love you._

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**Taluhk nash-veh k'dular! Seriously I love you guys.**

I know it gets hard sometimes

But I could never

_Leave your side_

_No matter what I say_

_Cause if I wanted to go I would have gone by now,_

_But I really need you near me to_

_Keep my mind off the edge_

_If I wanted to leave I would have left by now_

_But you're the only one that knows me_

_Better than I know myself_


	5. Three is a Crowd

**So...this started out as pure funny fluff in my head, but it kind of became serious in the end. I have an Angst problem :P Anyhoo, hope you enjoy this one, it will have a second part called An Object Most Dear coming whenever I can pull it out of my head.**

**Thanks for reading guys!**

**Sorry if Spock is a tad OOC in this one, I just really love territorial protective jealous Spock and couldn't resist.**

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**Three is a Crowd **

Vulcans do not feel nervous. At least Spock assured himself of this fact repeatedly as he stood stiffly at alert in the transporter room. The enterprise had responded to a call from New Vulcan to take a small group of diplomats aboard and transport them to a Federation Outpost in the Alpha Centauri system. If ambassadors were coming aboard, there was approximately a 93.2159% chance that his older self would be among them.

As the first of three members of the Vulcan Council materialized on the telapad, Captain Kirk hurried into the room then quickly fell into a comfortable but authoritative stance, to create the image that he had been waiting patiently for some time. He caught Spock's questioning eyebrow quirk and threw his first officer and companion a playful wink. The Vulcan looked away, not flustered in the slightest.

At least not admittedly.

The first ambassador stepped off the pad, extending the customary Vulcan greeting of spread fingers in the shape of a V. Kirk reciprocated the "Live Long and Prosper," accompanying it with a blinding smile.

"Welcome aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise," he welcomed, greeting the second diplomat. The third materialized and Spock resisted the urge to sigh. The final ambassador stepped forward and, to most of the assembled group's undying surprise and in the case of the council members, horror, offered a handshake to the young Captain. Jim smiled broadly-it could really only be called a grin-and accepted the gesture.

"It is good to see you again, Jim," he said warmly, and his eyes smiled at the golden man.

"I'm glad to see you too," he replied with sincerity, and then Spock Prime turned his dark gaze on his younger self, expressive eyes twinkling almost mischievously.

"Mr. Spock," he said as way of greeting, and the first officer allowed the old man his fun.

"Mr. Spock," he replied, and Jim startled them both with a bright burst of laughter.

"Alright you too,as amusing and admittedly awesome as this is, we've all got duties to attend to. Mr. Spock, if you would show the Ambassadors to their quarters?" Spock nodded, and took the lead at the front of the trio of Vulcans.

"You are not restrained to your quarters; G deck is equipped with recreation rooms and lounges which may be pleasing to you. You are all well versed in the usage of both the replicators and communications system, so I will not reiterate these components. Should any need arise please contact me or a security personnel officer. Our journey to the Alpha Centauri system should take approximately nine days, eighteen hours and twenty-two minutes. I sincerely hope your stay aboard the enterprise will be satisfactory."

The two stern Vulcans split off as they were shown to their rooms, but the elder spock lingered beside the younger a moment, taking in the corridors and doorways. He seemed reminiscent.

"Is she as you remember her?" Spock inquired, gesturing around to the general ship, and Spock Prime allowed himself a small smile.

"She is. A bit older and worse for wear in my memory, of course."  
They stood in silence that felt companionable for a few moments before Spock Prime turned to the first officer with a glitter of hopeful curiosity in his eyes.

"Unless you have any pressing mattters to attend to, it may be to our mutual enjoyment to tour some of the non-confidential areas of the ship," the old man urged, and his younger self gave a tight shake of his head.

"My duties as first officer cannot be shirked."

The ancient Vulcan accepted this and gave him a parting nod and turning towards his designated quarters. Spock quickly amended his statement.

"However...if I find my time is not otherwise occupied after the current shift I will alert you at my first available moment."

At the aforementioned first available moment, Spock the younger found himself outside the ambassador's quarters with every intention of spending a pleasant evening showing himself around a ship he probably knew like his own mind. But his first call of the bell seemed to go unnoticed, and a sudden burst of laughter from within startled him as his long finger hovered over the button to request access again. His request was granted, and he strode briskly into his elder's space to find a sight simultaneously familiar and disorienting.

Jim, draped across a chair with one leg over the armrest in a blatant refusal to properly use furniture was staring across a chessboard at a stiffly seated Vulcan with affectionate eyes. Spock had presumably arrived in the direct aftermath of some wit on his alternate's part, as the laughter still hung suspended in the air and danced in a smile upon Jim's lips.

A surge of startlingly aggressive territorialism surged through Spock-Chess was his pastime with the Captain, and something Spock Prime had said sent Jim into a bout of joyful laughter. Would he one day repeat the same humorous statement onto to find Jim's mirth diminished due to the repetitiveness of the action?

Why did that thought send a shard of painful jealousy through him?

"Oh hey Spock. Er, younger Spock? We were just talking about you," Jim said, eyes brightening at the sight of his first officer. He straightened, instinctively angling his body positively towards the Vulcan officer. When he noticed the microscopic signs of stress in his number one-tightening around his dark eyes and in the clenching of his hands-his expression dampened. Spock Prime noted this non-verbal communication with a softly nostalgic expression. He recognized this scene-how many times had his own Jim greeted him with that smile and then shifted directly into the concerned Spou-

He ended that train of thought before it could become painful or draw attention to his distress. This was not his Jim. It wasn't fair for him to place such expectations on him.

"Is something wrong?" the Captain asked, and Spock realized that his fists were clenched. He released them quickly, folding his arms at the small of his back.

"Of course, Captain. What would make you believe otherwise?"

Jim shrugged, but gazed across the height difference inquisitively. "Would you like to join us?" he suggested, and Spock swept his eyes across the half-finished chess game, meeting Ambassador Spock's eyes coolly for a brief instant before he gave a curt nod.

Kirk took his seat across from the Ambassador, and Spock the younger stared pointedly at his usual place currently occupied by the elder, initiating a stare-down between them until Kirk, growing uncomfortable with the possessive silence in the air, cleared his throat.

"Why don't you have a seat, Spock?" he urged, pulling a third chair over to the table, diplomatically angling it slightly closer to his own.

"I'm losing pretty badly-maybe between the two of us we can take him," the Captain said with a laugh, but he had just unwittingly unleashed a monster: Spock vs. Spock.

The play resumed, Kirk's thoughtful silences filled by Spock Prime's reminiscent gazes and Spock's stiff refusal to speak. The tension in the air rose slightly, but it felt competitive and friendly as Spock assisted Jim's moves, drawing him slowly out of the losing spiral he had fallen into.

After a while of only muttered comments to each other, Spock glanced up at his elder self calculatingly, dark eyes bright.

"I heard a rather unfortunate collapse of the new Vulcan temple on the colony occurred. I hope no one was injured," he commented, causing elder Spock to pause mid-move. He seemed to compose himself, setting the black Knight down.

"No. But it was a great loss to the progress of the colony. It will, of course, be rebuilt in due time," he replied, and younger Spock nodded, seeming to be glad for this development but still regarding his counterpart thoughtfully.

"You were involved, were you not?"

"Yes," Spock Prime retorted curtly, "and I am afraid you are in check," he pointed out, and Spock quickly took Kirk's bishop and intercepted the offending rook.

"Am I?"

The two Vulcans met gazes with a clash, one challenging and the other determining whether it would be prudent to rise to it. This was no longer a game of chess; it was a battle of wills.

"And the schools. Are they well?"

"Quite well."

"I have heard the diplomacy with the colony's neighbors are...unsatisfactory."

Spock Prime glanced at Spock with a disgruntled but curious look in his eyes. "Why are you purposefully antagonizing me, Mr. Spock?" he asked calmly, and the younger gave a tiny shrug.

"I was under the impression that we were engaging both in a chess game and an intellectual conversation," he replied innocently, and the elder's eyebrows knitted.

"You are jealous," he realized, and the first officer's fist clenched before he could stop it.

"Jealousy is illogical and I avoid feeling it," he retorted.

"That is a lie."

"You are in my chair," Spock broke in suddenly, and Kirk's eyebrows shot up in quite a comical manner. Was Spock really jealous? Of himself of all people?

Then Spock Prime flicked his King onto its side, nodding in surrender to his younger self. Although Vulcans do not feel such emotions, Spock almost felt pleased with himself, and settled back. Some sort of victor had been decided.

Elder Spock stood, bowing his head to the Captain. "Since I am not wanted here, I will speak with you at a later time," he said in a soft voice, emotionless on the surface but undercurrented with a striking sorrow. He departed, and Spock felt Kirk's eyes on him like the glare from the sun. He glanced over and was shocked to see an icy glint of disappointment in his Captain's blue eyes.

"That wasn't very kind of you, Spock," * Kirk chastised softly, and the Vulcan let out a breath of frustration.

"I am failing at controlling my emotions," he noted, and Jim flicked his eyes towards the door where the elder Spock had disappeared.

"You should probably say something to him," he urged, and Spock frowned minutely.

"Apology would be inappropriate this soon after a transgression, as it would appear I am only trying to atone myself in your eyes-"  
"He's really lonely, Spock. He's so painfully lonely," Jim said gently, and Spock stiffened. Spock Prime was Spock once, and if he had grown to become this way once...what was to stop him from doing so again? Did he want to forfeit this opportunity to assuage his own loneliness due to a childish bout of selfishness?

"I will speak with him," he decided, and Jim smiled, resting his hand briefly atop Spock's and leaning over to kiss him softly.

"Will you accompany me?" Spock inquired, maybe a little hopeful, but Kirk shook his head.

"I'd better leave this delicate matter to the Spocks. Three is a crowd you know."

* * *

**Danke! Drop a review! If you have a specific drabble you'd like to see someone write, suggest it and I'll see what I can do!**

_Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful_

_Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul_

_I know you will, I know you will_

_I know that you will_

_Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful_


	6. Bones Knows

**I decided to do a few really short little comments from the rest of the crew on Kirk and Spock's relationship. These will all sort of crosses TOS and the new Canon, so be prepared for that. And no Uhura/Spock ever happened DX cuz it's weird.**

**Anyhoo, enjoy, drop a review, suggest a drabble, etc.**

**Bones, Kirk and Spock are not mine, unfortunately.**

* * *

**Bones Knows**

Well...I mean they're close. Like friends? No, not like friends. Not like friends at all. They're the most goddamn obvious...what? How I know?

Because Jim's eyes just light up like the goddamn Fourth of July, and he grins and laughs and flirts like a lovestruck schoolboy, turns on his 'pretty girl' smile full force. It's distracting as hell and it makes me sick because the 'pretty girl' on the receiving end of that smile? She's not a girl. She's a 6 foot tall alien with green blood, pointy ears and the worst sense of humor in the entire galaxy.

She's also a Vulcan man named Spock.

What? No, I've never judged Jim on his sexual conquests-I've known more of them than I'd like to, and he's not real biased when it comes to gender. If it has a pretty face, he'll probably try to talk it into bed.

But Spock? It just makes my skin crawl to think of that copper blooded hobgoblin having any kind of intercourse with anyone, much less Jim. He's about as cuddly as a warp core, minus the radiation. It's like making love to, well-to a Vulcan!

Oh God, now I'm thinking about it.

And that machine pretends not to feel a goddamn thing, but when he looks at Jim it's like he's the proudest partner who ever lived, all that admiration and affection on his face...they're so transparent. I mean, no one on the crew would say anything if anyone in the higher ups asked about any monkey business between the Captain and the First Officer, but...we all know. It doesn't affect their work-I'd say it makes them the most loyal commanding pair in the whole damn fleet! But don't tell them I said that.

In fact, let's just keep this whole thing our little secret.

* * *

**God I love Bones. Thanks for reading!**

_After the war we said we'd fight together_

_I guess we thought that's just what humans do_

_Letting darkness grow_

_As if we need its palette and we need its colour_

_But now I've seen it through_

_And now I know the truth_

_That anything could happen_

_Anything could happen_


	7. Object Most Dear

**So this little arc sort of became a story. It's made up of four chapters: Three is a Crowd, Object Most Dear, Never Again and Happy Birthday. I may post it separately too, but for now here is the second arc of that little mini-story that evolved from some sappy angsty drabbles!**

* * *

**An Object Most Dear**

I sat in Meditative silence at the edge of my bed in the temporary guest quarters to which I had been assigned. It was a strange sensation to be aboard the Enterprise after all these years, to feel the hum of the warp engines and hear the soft murmur of nearly 500 crewmembers and passengers moving about their lives drifting through the vastness of space. Strange and admittedly emotional.

The chime of the door drew my attention, and I gave a curious "yes?" Who would be calling upon me at this hour? Logically I could only assume it would be Jim or...

"It is me," my own young voice called from the conn, and although I felt a twinge of confusion and a slight bit of apprehension I replied, "Come," eyes closed and fingertips pressed together to maintain all composure.

His soft footfalls entered the room and paused as he realized with what I had been occupied before his arrival.

"I apologize, I did not intend to interrupt you in meditation. I will return at a more convenient time," he said quickly, and I opened my eyes to see my younger self holding his body self-consciously, not comfortable in the slightest in the situation he had placed us in.

"It is no intrusion," I assuaged, taking my pendant from the bed and draping it back around my neck. I always used it as a centering object in my meditation, and its familiar and comforting weight settled over my heart as he approached. I saw his questioning gaze upon it, and I indicated that he should sit beside me. He remained standing.

"I came here to apologize for my irrational, rude and inexcusable behavior. I was acting out of..." he paused, as if the admission was quite difficult for him. It probably was.

"Jealously," he finally finished, and I smiled slightly.

"There is nothing shameful in actions of protectiveness or possessiveness in regards to one we care for. I took no offense from your actions," I assured, and he relaxed minutely in relief. It would be a logical assumption that Jim had insisted he apologize, and having completed this objective he looked around my room silently, at a loss for continued interaction.

"Ambassador..." he began eventually, surprising me with his initiation of conversation, and I raised an eyebrow to indicate he should continue and I would endeavour to answer to the fullest of my ability. He folded his arms at the small of his back, a familiar gesture I often employed when attempting to organize chaos within myself.

"May I pose a personal inquiry?" he prompted, and I set a hand on the bed again to encourage him to sit beside me. The disparate positions we currently inhabited suggested a balance of power in his favor, which may have made him comfortable but was not conducive to sincere conversation.

"I will answer as fully as I am able without posing any risk to your future," I teased, and he finally complied with my request for a more personable seating arrangement. He situated himself stiffly, and I could not suppress the immense fondness I felt for this young Vulcan I remembered being, still uncomfortable in his half-human skin.

"In your past...you seem fond of Jim, and to understand my own affection for him. What was your relationship with...your Jim?" he asked, forming each word carefully as he picked around what he felt was a delicate subject. I lifted a hand to the object around my neck, a habit born of nearly a century of fond thoughts of Jim, and his eyes followed my motion again. I could tell he wished very much for me to share information about it but was too polite to ask outright, and I decided to solve two sources of his curiosity with one stone-as Doctor McCoy would have put it, to kill two birds with one stone.

I placed the amulet on the pressed coverlet between us, flicking the well worn activation switch. A blue image flickered to life, a tiny figure I had imprinted in my mind; a man in his forties with a wry smirk, arms folded across his chest, a dozen tiny lines crinkling around the corners of his eyes. He began to sing, sending my companion's eyebrows up to his hairline in surprise. Whatever he had expected, I felt certain it did not resemble the reality.

"Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you! I know, I know, it's illogical to celebrate something you had nothing to do with, but I haven't had the chance to congratulate you on your appointment to the ambassadorship so I thought I'd seize the occasion..."

His eyes were fixed intently on this man he vaguely recognized and I remembered so strikingly well, and I recognized a glimmer of wonder in his eyes. Jim, at this age, still knew us. He would likely find that idea appealing.

"Bravo, Spock-they tell me your first mission may take you away for a while, so I'll be the first to wish you luck, and to say..."

Jim always had trouble finishing this sentence. I knew what that silence held-to say goodbye, to say good luck, to say I hate you for leaving Starfleet without asking my opinion, to say be careful, to say come home soon, to say all the things we had ever uttered to one another and all the things we couldn't-and I saw Spock still noticeably, holding his breath.

To say what?

"I miss you, old friend." It flickered once fitfully before falling dark and silent. I replaced the pendant around my neck with all the care afforded a sacred object, and he looked to me in slight bewilderment.

"That," I explained softly, "was the last message ever passed between Jim and I."

He contemplated this enormous fact for a moment, hands folded in his lap.

"You were friends," he deduced, and I gave a soft sigh.

"I can only assume the purpose of your line of questioning is to verify your own uncertainties regarding your own relationship with Jim," I postulated, and the tips of his ears darkened slightly in embarrassment before he nodded slightly. This gave me a small surge of happiness-for them to be emotionally involved this early in their timeline meant several years together which I was never offered, years before I ever met my Jim. That was a precious thing, but not necessarily a singularly positive one.

"And what is the nature of your relationship with Jim?" I urged, and he colored more noticeably. This unstable youth was more easily flustered than I remembered being-perhaps a side effect of elongated exposure to Jim in his developmental years of command.

"We are...very close," he struggled, and I extended my hand, three fingers offered in aid. He seemed alarmed by the concept of a mind meld with me, but realized it would be beneficial and nodded.

"If you would have no objection, I will share some of my own thoughts with you as well," I suggested, and he nodded.

Our eyes closed, and I murmured, "My mind to your mind...my thoughts to your thoughts."

_Brilliant._

_"How the hell did that kid beat your test?"_

_Sparkling eyes, defiance, impossible, incredible_

**_Who is he?_**

_"I do not know."_

_Eyes flash, crystal blue, accusation, conflict. An uncomfortable magnetism. You should not feel these things. They are dark and angry and you know better._

_"The purpose is to experience fear."_

_What do you know of Fear, Spock? This is fear. Pain and anguish__** Vulcan is dead gone just like that**__ fear hatred sorrow rage __**Mother**__ and those damnable blue eyes, insubordinate, challenging, pressing all the wrong sore spots of your psyche until you break._

_He's always known how to get to us._

_A decision, impossible, wrong Get him off my ship you can't handle feeling this many things and he makes it worse, so much worse, so confusing._

_He returns, a demonic boomerang, chin out, shoulders back, those eyes __**those fucking eyes**__ glittering as he hits you where it hurts, draws your deepest most private emotions roaring to the surface. He makes you hate him._

_You tumble together through space, set on a collision course with destiny, and he pulls you in in a way you cannot explain._

_"Just trust me."_

_And you do. You trust him to the ends of the galaxy and beyond, an emotion with transcends logic._

_Then suddenly he is dying, burning from the inside out, dying to save you and your crew and everything you believe in._

_You have felt such pain and loss and crushing devastation only once before in your life upon the death of our planet._

_You stand at his bedside, tense, more nervous than you've felt in years, and you cannot explain nor justify the soaring burst of joy you feel as those eyes-demanding, brilliant, brave, beautiful-open after you believed they would never do so again._

The flow of images slows, halts, before reversing quickly. I find censoring my end of the connection most challenging, and cannot stop most of the trade.

_A lingering gaze, warm eyes, touches that at first were startling but become common; welcome even._

_"Spock!"_

_Heart thundering escapades, narrow escapes, daring feats of human illogic and valiance. He never has had much respect for his own limitations. Or my own, for that matter._

_My first Pon Farr away from home, risking his life, __**he'd do anything to save me**_

_And he does, dozens of times over, my life in his hands and his in mine,_

_"Captain. Even when he doesn't say it he does."_

_I spent so many years trying to suppress these traitorous emotions, yet he pulled those slight smiles, accepted touches, unimaginable feelings from me with apparent ease._

_"And where would you say we belong?"_

_"You? At his side, as if you've always been there and always will."_

_A parting, painful, anguished, unwilling, but necessary. Purge these shameful feelings from myself before they can poison anything else. Kolihar looming, offering peace and freedom. Freedom from him. Is that what I wanted?_

_Of course not. It was not weakness which called me to his side once more-it was strength. He called to me from Space, drawing me with my conflict and desire for something more, something meaningful, to him once more._

_"Even this simple feeling is beyond VGER's comprehension."_

_Clapsed hands, yes, I knew what that meant, meant to me and to him, knew I had found where I belonged now and always._

_"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."_

_Or the one dying slowly, painfully, separated by a pane of treacherous glass, unable to touch him, unable to say goodbye._

_"Live Long and Prosper."_

_Death, which I do not remember, and rebirth which I find difficult to recall, just that thin golden tether linking us together. I wonder if he felt it break._

_"Jim. Your name is Jim."_

_Jubilation, reunion, joy unlike anything that should have been possible-_

**_Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you._**

_Pain, sudden and crippling, the breaking of thread across thousands of light years._

**_I Miss you Old Friend._**

_Loss so staggering I had nothing then to compare it to and no method for combatting it._

**_I have been and always will be your friend._**

_Falling, tumbling through space and time, hurtling across galaxies and years and impossibilities. _

_Bright eyes, upturned face, youth and vitality glowing gold, was he always so beautiful?_

_"James T. Kirk."_

_He's taken care of, you'll see to him. Keep him safe, keep him well, tell him what I did not have the strength to._

**_I love you._**

We broke apart, slightly staggered by the enormity of a shared recollection of Jim Kirk.

"How...did he die?" he asked, struggling for air and reeling from the lingering sense of loss which I had dealt with every day for nearly a century. I shook my head.

"It would be dangerous to..." I trailed off because the look in his eyes-devastation, coupled with the determination and realization that he would outlive our beloved by centuries and that every moment he had with him was precious-stunned me into silence. I could not condemn him to the same fate I had suffered.

"During my first mission as Ambassador. He was killed in an unfortunate accident aboard the Enterprise B on her Maiden Voyage. It is my hope that you will not allow him-"

"I will not," he interrupted sharply, and I nodded. He understood. I could only hope that he would succeed where I ultimately failed.

"I must return to my duties," he said tightly, rising with uncharacteristic speed, and I gestured to the door to indicate that he was free to leave at any time with no offense to me. He strode to the door without another word to me, and I felt solid determination in our lingering connection.

He was going to see Jim.

I settled back into the blankets then, allowing the trinket to play audio only as I closed my eyes and smiled.

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you..."

* * *

**Spock x Spock mindmeld was interesting to write... hope you guys liked it! **

_I know I could face_

_The bitter cold_

_But life without you_

_I don't know_


	8. Scotty Knows

**Another member of the crew's response to questions about the Captain and his First Officer**

* * *

**Scotty Knows**

The Captain and the Commander? They're quite the pair those two, pra'tically inseparable. I dinnae think I 'ave ever seen 'em spend more than a few wee hours apart. Well, they get a bit irritable when that 'appens. We try to avoid keeping them apart.

I dinnae ken if they even know they act differently apart than together. Mr. Spock act'lly shows a bit o' softness around the Captain, but on 'is own 'e's a slave driver! No food, no sleep, he thinks we're bloody robots! And the Captain gets a bit sulky, sort of like a little child who's 'ad 'is favorite toy taken away.

And there's the away missions. The Captain could take anyone on board, but ye ken his first choice without fail? Spock! Ah could be a great landing party leader, but no-the Captain thinks Spock can handle any bloody thing the bloody galaxy could throw at 'im! It's borderline 'ero worship!

But yeh know...sometimes ah wonder about those two. They're just closer than friends usually are, yeh ken? Like they're...

Well, then again ah suppose it's none o' my business, right?

* * *

**I seriously love you guys so much! The reviews you've given me made me so happy and I feel so unbelievably special, thank you so so much! **

_The grass is probably green_

_The sky is probably blue_

_I'd probably do anything for you_

_I probably love you_


	9. Beloved

**Third installment in the little mini-story! This one has some citrusy nonsense in it, hope you enjoy :3**

* * *

**Beloved**

I sat on the edge of my bed, fiddling with a malfunctioning phaser circuit. I let my mind wander-our recent mission to a tropical hell hole on Gamma Trianguli VI and subsequent freeing of an entire species from their Eden; the current orders to make our way to the Alpha Centauri system for a peace meeting for the Vulcan colony; the particular Vulcans currently aboard his vessel, probably deep in conversation at that very moment.

The door chime startled me out of my reverie, and I called a "come in."

Spock strode through the door, taking long purposeful steps, and I turned to him in surprise. His eyes were dark with...something I couldn't really identify.

"How did the talk with the ambassador go?" I asked, almost afraid to ask if his tense aura was anything to judge by, and he stopped just in front of me, well within my personal space.

"We spoke of many important matters," he replied shortly, and when he took another step forward into my vicinity I had the fleeting thought that he was kind of intimidating when he wanted to be.

It was also kind of extremely hot.

"Like what?" I prompted, looking up into his dark eyes with a smile to decrease any tension I might have been causing him. He seemed to hesitate, and I swung my legs absently and continued to smile.

"You exchange dirty stories about me?" I teased, and his eyes snapped to mine with alarming intensity.

"We did address the topic," he replied, and I couldn't tell if that meant they really did tell dirty secrets of if they just discussed me in general. I leaned a little closer to him, grinning suggestively as I decided to take it however the hell I wanted to, and he appraised me with those dark eyes for another instant.

He advanced on me suddenly, a long fingered hand catching mine as the other slid into the hair at the base of my neck, and he pulled me into a fierce kiss. Pleasantly surprised, I twined my fingers with his, tilting my head to accommodate his position leaning over me.

Spock suddenly pushed me back, practically throwing me onto the mattress and climbing on top of me. Despite my astonishment a thrill of arousal coursed through my veins, and I urged him closer by hooking a leg around his hips.

He actually hissed as we ground into contact, and I threw back my head as he used those lips, usually pressed into a tight line, to suck at the skin on my throat.

I didn't know what had gotten into Spock but _God_ I hope it stayed. This was completely unlike him.

That made me pause and reassess what exactly was going on here, and I pressed against his shoulders gently. He didn't budge, so I pushed harder.

"Spock, Spock hold on," I urged, cursing myself as I said it. He jerked back, cheeks flushed a fascinating shade of green, eyes dark. Why was I stopping him again? I was having a hard time recalling.

"Is there a problem, Jim?" he murmured, and I knew he couldn't possibly trying to be sexy, but his low voice in my ear was causing an interesting effect on my mental facilities.

"Just...the hell did he say to you?" I asked, and he searched my eyes for a moment. I don't know if he found what he was looking for there, but he rested his forehead against mine and closed his eyes.

"I do not wish to waste your time or my own due to my own petty desire to hold to the Vulcan ways. I feel...many things, and denying that will result in nothing but frustration and regrets."

I felt a twinge of sadness trickling through our contact, and brushed my thumb against his hand comfortingly. But that sadness was overwhelmed suddenly by a wave of affection and desire, calming my apprehension and reminding me that I was painfully aroused and had the hot body of a Vulcan sprawled between my legs.

"You sure?" I forced myself to ask him even as I snuck a kiss with a grin. He contemplated me with the same intensity one might afford a particularly fascinating amoeba beneath a microscope. Then he popped one of those godawfully sexy eyebrows and readjusted his hips slightly, and for a moment I was sure he was going to stand,

So when he thrust sharply against me I gave a startled gasp, and a goddamn smirk danced around Spock's lips.

"Quite certain, Captain."

Did he purposely layer the word 'Captain' with a sinful amount of suggestion? I decided that he would most definitely not be calling me Jim for the next hour or so as I rolled us, landing him beneath me with a challenging grin.

Boy did he rise to it.

I grinned lazily as my first officer drew surprisingly absent patterns on my flushed skin, eyes following the lines of my back with what I may be proud enough to call appreciation. The last few hours had been mind-blowing-true, it wasn't the best sex I'd ever had physically. Spock was a bit uncertain, his techniques clumsy but sincere. But it was the best spiritually, because of the meaning behind the actions, the emotion in each caress and kiss and whispered word.

"So now is probably a bad time to ask about what you and the Ambassador really talked about, huh?" I suggested, and his graceful fingers stilled in their restless wandering. I rolled onto my side to face him, and couldn't contain a smile at seeing his usually pristine locks disheveled from promiscuous activity. He brushed the tips of his fingers down the left side of my face, imparting a hint of his true feelings. That strange sadness he had shared earlier lingered still, but a staggering rush of love outweighed any regret or unhappiness he might have been experiencing.

"You do not realize that you are a fragile being, Jim. Fragile in that you are human," he expanded before I could voice my indignation. "Your life with me can quite easily be ended. I did not think it prudent to waste any of our existing time together."

That was really depressing on so many levels. I hadn't really thought about the difference in our lifespans before-barring some unfortunate accident that would probably kill me before I was forty, the risk of which was abnormally high in my circumstance, I might be lucky and live into my nineties. An ancient Vulcan could push the 300's.

I nestled closer and we just listened to each other breathe for a few minutes; the steady beat of my heart and the strong hum of his that pulsed twice for each thus of my own.

"Well who the hell cares anyway?" I grumbled, "I'll live long enough to give Bones a heart attack, have some truly spectacular old man sex with you, and then I'll go out in whatever blaze of glory that's gonna finally get me," I decided, and he gazed down at me with inquisitive eyes before realizing I was making a joke.

"I do not find your humor particularly amusing in this instance, Jim," he admitted, and I nudged his shoulder petulantly.

"I don't find _you_ amusing," I replied childishly, and raised an eyebrow in reply.

"I find that highly unlikely given the activities we have been participating in for nearly two hours now, Captain."

I gaped. "Spock, did you just make an innuendo?" I teased, and he just popped that goddamn eyebrow in response.

"Jesting aside, Jim...there is a favor I would endeavour to ask of you."

* * *

**Thanks for reading I love you all so much. **

All along

I tried to pretend it didn't matter

If I was alone

But deep down I know

If you were gone

For even a day I wouldn't know which way to turn

Cause I'm lost without you.


	10. Bones' Blunder

**Since the fans beckoned for some Bones Love...I came up with this idea! There will be a series of tribbles titled Bones' something or other all about Bones and his poor poor self. I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

**Bones' Blunder**

On his way to his quarters on D Deck, Doctor Leonard McCoy made a rather ineffectual blunder. He decided that, since he was finished with his shift for the evening and his dear friend James T. Kirk was also currently on break, he would go and invite the young Captain for a drink.

As he approached the Captain's Quarters, he pressed the chime for the door, glancing at the time piece on his communicator. Hm...maybe it was a little late for a drink.

The door slid open and he stepped into Jim's unusually warm cabin.

"Hm...quite the dominant possessive, aren't you Spock?"

"On the contrary, Captain, I feel no such emotions. I simply prefer to be...in charge of the situation."

"Well I've got to admit, it's kind of surprising. I didn't expect you to rise to the challenge like that."

Bones froze. The hell? Jim and Spock's private lives were of no interest to him, and if he had walked in on something nasty-

"God, Spock!" Jim suddenly exclaimed, sending blood rushing to Bones' ears and down from his head. Sweet baby Jesus and his lovely mother Mary, he was not going to deal with this!

"I needed that Bishop you know!"

...what? Bones stepped cautiously into the room to find Jim sprawled petulantly in a chair across a chess-cluttered table from Spock, who had a slightly smug expression on his face. Well, as close to an expression as the Vulcan came.

"Oh, there you are Bones. What did you need?" Jim asked, still scrutinizing the chessboard, and McCoy glanced between them silently for a moment as images he definitely didn't want or need danced through his head before he scrunched his eyes closed, rubbing them wearily.

"Nothing Jim. Just...nothing."

* * *

**I love you Bones.**

_The colors conflicted_

_As the flames climbed into the clouds._

_I wanted to fix this_

_But couldn't stop from tearing it down._


	11. Uhura Knows

**More crewmates who know.**

* * *

**Uhura Knows**

Spock is...a very private man. He doesn't really show affection very openly most of the- Captain Kirk? Well...yes, they do seem very affectionate for two friends, but that's hardly what we were talking about.

***sighs*** Listen. I'm not blind. I see the way Spock looks at Kirk. It's not that I'm jealous-I wasn't what Spock needed and he wasn't what I needed either, so that ship has long since sailed-but I guess I could be more...surprised. They just seem like such opposite personalities that it's hard to believe how well they've come to get along.

At first, if you remember, they loathed each other. Spock marooned Kirk on a frozen wasteland of a planet and Kirk caused Spock such emotional trauma that he lost all semblance of control that the Surakian Philosophies he holds dear tell him to maintain at all times. They hated each other.

Although...I suppose it didn't happen all at once either. Their hatred turned into a sort of...begrudging respect for one another. Then that became trust after, well...you know what happened with Nero. After working closely together for a few months a kind of friendship bloomed. Kirk was so upset when Spock reported the incident with the Volcano...it was betrayal, I imagine.

But friendship to...whatever it is they are now...I began to suspect when Kirk died-

ahem. Sorry.

When Kirk died, Spock was so furious and angry and hurt and devastated...I've only seen him so distraught after the destruction of Vulcan. He wouldn't feel that way if I had died-and I'm not being bitter, it's the truth.

Whatever their bond is...it's so deep and strong and pure I can't even imagine what it feels like.

I know a word for it though. The Vorta call it rodnasnuju dušu. In Klingon, the word is tIq. The Tzenkethi called it Xīnxīnxiāngyìn. Vulcans use the word T'hy'la.

They're soulmates.

* * *

**Well said my dear.**

_However far away_

_I will always love you_

_However long I stay_

_I will always love you_

_Whatever words I say_

_I will always love you_

_I will always love you_


	12. Blue Eyes

**So why are new Kirk's eyes blue? I may have a theory-and the Spocks may have a prognosis.**

* * *

**Blue Eyes**

Kirk rang the chime for entrance to Spock's quarters, raring for a game of chess. The Enterprise had been running nothing but boring Scouting missions for the last three weeks and he was getting agitated. He needed to work his brain somehow, so here he was waiting outside his First Officer's room with his lucky White King in hand. Spock had his own 3D chessboard of course, but Kirk just never seemed to win when playing with Spock's King.

The door whooshed open and he swaggered in, halfway into a challenge to chess, when he realized his Vulcan Officer was sitting at the monitor on his desk and speaking earnestly with a familiar face.

"Spock! It's nice to see you!" Kirk crowed, causing two identical pairs of dark eyes to turn to him with identical raised eyebrows.

"I am pleased by your presence as well, Jim," the old man said, eyes warm and fond, and Spock the younger flicked his eyes towards the seat at the end of his desk to indicate Jim should sit, and that they would begin their game momentarily.

"I will send a request to Starfleet for a stricter defense regiment when delivering supplies to the colony," the First Officer assured, and the Ambassador nodded thankfully. However Jim proved to be too much of a distraction and was soon called over to the screen.

"How are things down on New Vulcan?" he asked, starting up casual conversation, and they chatted about the Colony, the school system which Spock had been almost single handedly reconstructing, Sarek, Jim's family which the elder Spock knew a startling amount about, the status of the Enterprise. Spock's expression would occasionally become clouded by what looked like confusion before clearing again, but Jim couldn't shake the feeling that he was causing it.

"Is everything alright, Ambassador?" he finally asked, and Spock the elder raised both eyebrows innocently.

"Of course Jim. What would indicate otherwise?"

Kirk sighed in frustration-some things never changed apparently, and Spock's aversion to admitting to an emotional slip was one of those things.

"Is something on my face? You seem discontent about something," he urged, and younger Spock-who had been almost completely moved from the frame and was now absently arranging the chessboard for a game-looked over sharply.

Spock Prime shook his head. "Not discontent. Merely...surprise. Your eyes," he explained, and Kirk frowned in alarm. Was there something wrong with them?

"It would be advised that you elaborate upon that statement, Ambassador," younger Spock commented, and his elder self complied.

"They are not as I remember. Your eyes were always brown in my memories," he explained, and Kirk blinked, suddenly self-conscious of his eye color of all things.

"Well, I'm pretty sure I've always had blue eyes...I mean I didn't get color corrective surgery or anything..." he fumbled, and his First Officer joined him by the screen, seeming contemplative.

"A child develops eye color as they age, within the first few years of their life. Perhaps some extraneous circumstances had an affect on this development."

"The excessive amount of temporal disturbance and unusual radiation at the location of his birth could have had an impact on the melanin production..."

"I don't know if that's-"

"And the unstable nature of his young life may have caused his body to divert attention to other functions, leaving less time or energy for the collection of said melanin."

"Guys, I'm right here."

"The change, however, is not an aesthetically displeasing one."

"I agree with this diagnosis."

"Hey!" The Vulcans ceased in their analysis, turning matching dark eyes on the subject of their conversation. He was mildly flushed, and the rosy quality his human blood brought to this normal function brought a softness to both their eyes.

"We apologize," Younger Spock allowed, the elder adding, "We did not intend to tease."

"Like hell you didn't. Now why don't you get back to whatever it is Vulcan Colony Builders do, and you sit down and play a game of Chess with me," he ordered, pointing to each Spock in turn. The Ambassador smiled and bid them goodbye, and his First Officer moved towards him and the ready chessboard.

As he passed he paused, resting a hand on Jim's shoulder and pressing the softest of kisses to one of Jim's closed eyelids before sitting down across from him to play. Jim wondered if such displays could be constituted as cheating.

He never stood a chance.

* * *

**Kirk's Blue Eyes are kind of sexy**

_Blue eyes_

_Holding back the tears_

_Holding back the pain_

_Baby's got blue eyes_

_And he's alone again_

_Blue eyes_

_Baby's got blue eyes_

_Like a clear blue sky_

_Watching over me_

_Blue eyes_

_I love blue eyes_

_When I'm by his side_

_Where I long to be_

_I will see_


	13. Bones' Bad Day

**Another tribble about poor Doctor Leonard McCoy whom we love so much.**

**I just have to thank you all SO MUCH for the overwhelmingly positive and supportive reviews you've been giving me! You literally make my day with your comments and praise and I love you so so much! **

**Shout outs to Hiding in the Shadow, ShamelessSpocker, Sheepdog20, ScienceWolf, Vatrina-Chan and all you others who have taken the time to drop a ****review. I love you beyond all reason.**

* * *

**Bones' Bad Day**

Dr. Leonard McCoy wandered down the hall of D deck grumbling softly to himself, going over some data on a PADD in his hand as he made his way to the Captain's Quarters. Jim had avoided the mandatory sickbay check-in after a landing party mishap which sent the crew on a wild adventure on some Godforsaken rock at the edge of the galaxy-again-Bones had taken it upon himself to make a house call. He was such a good friend.

As he approached his friend's cabin, he realized the door across the hall was propped open, and a wind of hot dry air coasted down the hall from what could only be a Vulcan's quarters. Bones growled under his throat and approached, feeling in his gut that Jim was probably playing Chess or something with their Science Officer again and therefore Bones would have to deal with one of his least favorite crewmen, Commander Spock.

"Nngh...this is going to hurt, isn't it?"

"Not if we are cautious, Captain."

Bones paused as he heard some sort of conversation emanating from the depths of the First Officer's room and scowled. He was not in the mood for any dealings with either of them, much less the both of them. However he stepped up to the door, lifting a hand to ring the chime.

"You know how to do it, right?"

"This is not my first time, if that is what you wish to know, Captain."

"Great. Comforting. Just...pop it in quickly, alright?"

"I assure you, insertion is quick and painful for only a few moments."

The Good Doctor froze in his tracks as the words became audible. Surely they weren't...I mean, Jim and Spock? Vulcans were so strange about sexual intercourse, surely they couldn't be...he moved just inside the door, eyes wide as he listened.

"Ah! Warn a man before you just shove it in, Spock!"

"I apologize...I was under the impression you were prepared."

"It's a large object to force into a small hole, Spock, it's going to hurt no matter how well _prepared_ I am-"

Bones turned away with a howl of horror, covering his ears. The sounds within fell silent at his string of curses as he retreated, and he had barely gotten out the door before two shadows fell upon his own.

"Bones? What are you doing here?" Kirk asked, and the Doctor turned around grudgingly to find both his commanding officers standing there looking...not at all abashed. Confused in fact, and almost entirely dressed. Jim was the only one in any kind of state of undress, and his shirt was only missing because his right arm had been placed in a sling.

"I came to check on you...what, ah...what exactly were you two doing?" Bones asked, cursing himself even as the question fled his lips. He didn't want to know-GOD he didn't want to know.

"The Captain had injured himself and did not wish to be given the lecture he is sure to receive anyway about the dangers of a dislocated shoulder. I rectified this problem by relocating the injured limb myself," Spock answered coolly, and Jim winced as he rested a hand on the wounded joint. Bones looked between them, and the Captain flinched preemptively as he prepared for the verbal lashing he was doubtless about to receive.

"You were...resetting his shoulder?" The doctor verified, and the Vulcan nodded curtly.

"And...that's all you were doing?" Bones sounded oddly apprehensive, and Jim raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"You sound disappointed, Doctor," he teased, and Bones actually laughed as a wave of relief rushed over him.

"Just glad I misheard you for once, Jim."

"What was that Bones?"

"Nothing, Jim. Now let me see that shoulder of yours."

* * *

**Gotta love dem Bones.**

**I'm really serious about taking suggestions. If you have a tribble you'll just die without shoot me a review or a PM and I will make it so. Because I love you guys and I'm always looking for ideas. *kisses***

_I must be dreaming_  
_Or we're onto something_  
_I must be dreaming_  
_For I don't fall in love lawlessly_  
_I must be dreaming_  
_Or pinch me to waking_  
_So undeniably yours_  
_As long as I'm losing it so completely_


	14. Happy Birthday

**The last installment in that little actual storyline arc. Sequel to Three is a Crowd, Object Most Dear and Beloved. **

**If any of you would be interested in a full length K/S fic by me, let me know. I have an idea for a real story, but...well what's more motivating than potential readers! Leave a review if you think I should write it. In addition to a million more tribbles of course ;)**

* * *

**Happy Birthday**

Spock the Elder sat at the desk in his quarters, typing up a report on the colony's progress for someone high up in the chain of Starfleet command. The Enterprise had entered the Alpha Centauri system and would begin transfer of the Ambassadors within 24 hours.

The door chimed, and the Vulcan bade his unnamed visitor enter without looking up from his occupation.

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you," a strikingly familiar voice sang from the entryway, and Spock stiffened and turned around to face the intruder in his space.

A young Jim Kirk swaggered into the room, smiling-but it was almost hesitant in nature. He was insecure, an emotion which he did not often exude.

"It's not your birthday, I know. But it is your last day aboard the Enterprise," he pointed out, approaching his old friend with a gleam in blue eyes. Spock smiled ever so slightly, rising to stand in front of the Captain.

"This is true," he replied, dark eyes warm. He had so missed this witty banter with Jim. What mischief did the starship captain have in mind to make those eyes of his sparkle so?

"You have any plans?" the bright eyed youth asked, and Spock cocked an eyebrow.

"I seem to have no previous engagements with which to occupy my time. Does your current line of questioning have a purpose Captain?"

Jim laughed; feet spread, hands on narrow hips, head thrown back in a sight that warmed the old Vulcan's heart.

"You got me. How would you like to get reacquainted with the old girl?" he suggested, gesturing around at the ship. He expected the Vulcan to make some sort of comment about how 'liking' anything was a human emotion, that he had no use or time for such things.

The Ambassador's eyes softened. "It would bring me great pleasure to spend an evening aboard the Enterprise with you, Captain."

"Welcome, Mr. Spock, back to the Bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise."

The doors swooshed open, and the current bridge crew glanced up to see the elderly version of the very Vulcan sitting in the command chair step onto the bridge. His dark eyes swept over the positions; the Navigation center, the Helm, communications, the Captain's Chair, the science station.

First Officer Spock rose quickly, hands settling at the small of his back.

"Captain. Ambassador," he greeted, eyes lingering with what could be construed as gratitude on Jim.

"I was just giving Ambassador Spock a tour of the ship. No complaints to him coming onto the bridge, are there Commander?" Jim asked, teasing his t'hy'la with his eyes, and Spock the younger gave a nod.

"I see no breach in protocol resulting from such an action, Captain. After all, I do have Bridge Clearance."

The elderly Vulcan approached the Captain's Chair, settling as if by habit at it's right side. He glanced around, watching the crew go about its business, his eyes drawn to the Science Station. Jim noticed his repeated line of sight and approached the young ensign currently occupying the station, a human with highly advanced android implants. The man glanced up at his Captain with electric blue eyes.

"GATT5000, would you mind-"

"Of course sir," the young man replied instantly, smiling slightly. Jim grinned-his crew was like a well oiled machine and they knew his orders almost without his saying anything. Gatt5000 stood, vacating the station for the Vulcan, who practically beamed and took his place at the Science Station. The younger Spock glanced at Jim questioningly, rising to give Jim his chair, and the golden boy sank comfortably into the seat as his First settled at his right hand.

"Why don't we just take her out for a spin?" He suggested, eyes glittering with mirth.

"Navigator, lay in heading 042 08. Helm, warp 6. Science Officer...any unusual readings out there?" he asked, shooting a grin over his shoulder at the elder Spock, who smiled with his eyes and shook his head.

"Nothing to report, Captain."

They took the scenic route around a few Class A dwarf planets and a lovely Class O, managing to get into trouble with a nasty group of space Pirates which resulted in a high speed dash through an asteroid belt and a risky jump to warp. It was all rather thrilling and daring, but after the excitement had passed-with both Spocks proving to be immeasurably helpful, Jim would really have to look into how to keep them both aboard at once more often-the Captain handed the ship over to his First and, like the other humans desirous of some leisure time, headed to Deck F.

"Welcome to the Rec Rooms! If some things never change, you probably didn't spend a lot of time here on your Enterprise."

The assorted crewmembers populating Rec Room 3 looked up in surprise to see the Captain escorting a Vulcan Ambassador into the room. The Rumor Mill had already suggested their Captain was taking the elder Spock on some sort of tour, but it was still disorienting to see the familiar duo so...unfamiliar.

"Hello sir! Is nice to see you!" a young bright eyed Russian popped from his seat, beaming at the Vulcan's presence. Spock's eyes softened.

"Hello Mr. Chekov. It is pleasurable to be once again in your presence."

"We're glad you're here, Ambassador," Sulu added from beside the energetic ensign, and Scotty stood as well, interjecting with "Aye! Quite a sight to see yeh out and about Sir!"

"Would you join us for awhile?" Uhura suggested, glancing at the empty chair beside her, and Spock cocked an eyebrow thoughtfully. Then he sat down, earning cheers and greetings all around.

"I do not suppose my younger self has been inclined to share our musical inclinations with you," he asked, and the reactions were...startling. Chekov actually squealed, Scotty roared his approval and Uhura gasped in excitement.

"No!"

"Yeh most definitely hahv not!"

"Show us, show us!"

The old Vulcan actually allowed an upward quirk of his lips and motioned to the pretty blonde yeoman-Rhodes, Rich, Rand, something like that-and murmured something to her. She nodded, slipping from the room and returning an impressively short time later bearing what appeared to be some kind of Harp.

"Much appreciated, Yeoman," he thanked warmly, and she colored in pleasure at the unexpected praise. The Ambassador took the instrument, weathered hands plucking the strings with learned skill, and a tune soon materialized from the device. Nyota's eyes lit up suddenly; it was a tune she recognized.

Jim leaned against the wall, smiling slightly as Uhura's lilting voice joined Spock's music in the air around them. The whole group listened, rapt, and he saw Chekov inch close enough to Sulu to lean gently against him. The Asiatic Lieutenant responded by readjusting his arm to accommodate this contact more comfortably, subtle but sincere reciprocation. Jim couldn't contain his sneaking smile.

"What're yeh plannin', Captain?" Scotty asked quietly, and Kirk shrugged.

"I'm just letting it happen, Scotty. Whatever 'it' is, I guess that's up to him."

The chime sounded for a shift change, and the crew grudgingly collected themselves to get back to work. Spock looked at Jim expectantly, and the Captain grinned.

"I think I've accumulated enough sick days to constitute one day off. Besides, you're in charge in my absence. What could happen?"

Spock popped both brows as he and Jim made their way down the hallway towards a currently unknown destination.

"If memory serves correctly, quite a lot, Captain." Jim laughed at the Vulcan's unique brand of subtle wit.

"Speaking of trouble, let's see what Bones is up to."

The duo walked in companionable silence to G Deck, where Jim swaggered into Sickbay without so much as an invitation or announcement.

"Bones! How's my favorite angry Southerner?" he crowed, and from the depths of the hospital complex the roar of a reply came, "God dammit Jim I'm busy! You can't just waltz in here whenever you're bored and expect me to entertain you! You're like a five year old! A needy five year old! With a pointy eared shadow!"

Jim chuckled as his old friend emerged from..wherever it was he spent his time down here, and the doctor nearly stumbled when he noticed the Captain's companion.

"Dammit, Jim, did he contract the aging virus again?!" McCoy spluttered, and Jim burst out laughing as Spock raised a condescending eyebrow at the CMO.

"Doctor McCoy, if you had bothered to pay attention to the ship's happenings outside of your own Medical Bay, you may have become aware of the fact that the Enterprise is currently transporting three Vulcan Diplomats to the Alpha Centauri system for a peace convention. I, as you should have postulated, am Ambassador Spock, and myself of this timeline is currently on the bridge tending to the Captain's duties," the elderly man said cuttingly, and Bones colored furiously.

"I- you- he- who the hell do you think you are you pointy eared bastard?!"

"Making futile attempts at insults in regards to the nature of my Vulcan heritage is an indication of shallow thinking and invalid arguments, Doctor. I would be cautious of such attempts in the future."

"You should be cautious of your next medical exam, I'll fill your hypo so full of Hobgoblin poison you'll be dead before you have a chance to blink!"

"That action would be illogical, Doctor, given that I will not be receiving any medical exams from you any time in my personal future, and your own Spock would find such an action surprisingly hostile."

"ARGH! Get him the hell out of my sickbay!" McCoy howled, but Jim was too deep in hysterics to reply, and Spock cocked an eyebrow of victory as Bones ranted and raved at him. The altercation may have become quite violent had Jim not intervened by removing them both from the situation and guiding the Ambassador safely down the hall towards the science labs on the same deck.

"I always wondered..." he commented after he had regained the ability to breathe through his laughter, and Spock glanced at him questioningly. He grinned in reply.

"If you intentionally antagonize him or if he was always exaggerating. I should have known it was intentional. God you piss him off without even breaking a sweat! I shouldn't find it so funny," he reprimanded, "he's my best friend. But...it's just so funny I can't help myself. So, you want to check on the Science Lab experiments? You could probably help the labs out and enjoy yourself at the same time, knowing you," Jim suggested, but Spock stopped walking, forcing Jim to about face curiously.

"Actually, Jim...there is something which I wish to show you."

Spock led them down into the bowels of the ship, past all quarters and general crew decks into the engineering sections. In all honesty, Jim had never been to this part of the ship. In fact, from the utter lack of personnel they had passed in the last ten minutes, it would appear no one else had either.

"You're not luring me to a deserted part of the ship just to kill me, are you?" Jim asked with a laugh, and Spock raised an eyebrow but did not reply. Why did that make him the slightest bit nervous? But he trusted this man-trusted him more deeply and completely that he had ever trusted anyone.

"Then where are you taking me?"

They clambered down a maintenance shaft and emerged in a dark chamber lit only by the emergency floor lights. It seemed about the size of a turbolift, and irregularly shaped.

"We are still on the Enterprise, right?" Kirk asked, moving closer to the protection of Spock instinctively in an unknown situation. Spock touched his arm gently.

"Yes, Captain," his voice resonated in the small space, and a small flash burst from one wall, startling the youth with it's sudden brilliance.

"I discovered this place quite on accident many years from your current time during a crisis. It did not appear on the ship schematics to have any designated function. Naturally, I was curious."

The floor lights extinguished abruptly, plunging them both into that total darkness experienced only in caves-or in their dase, the windowless depths of a starship.

"Did you tell me-er, the other Jim-about it?"

Five blue-white lights flickered to life on each side of the room, casting a ghostly pall over the faces of the intruders. Spock's eyes practically danced in the lighting.

"It seemed to have no immediate potential impact on the crew of the ship; I saw no logical reason to officially report it."

Jim stared at the Vulcan before he burst into laughter, bright and boisterous. "You lied!" he accused, and Spock raised an offended eyebrow.

"I omitted."

Suddenly the blue-white lights flashed convulsively before the room went mostly dark. Pinpoints of light began to pop into existence, and the multi-colored brilliance of the Orion nebula bloomed to their left. Jim started in surprise, clutching Spock's arm, and the Vulcan watched his human companion's eyes glow with wonder.

"They're-the stars!" he exclaimed, and Spock nodded, closing the access panel he had been using.

"The exact scene which surrounds the Enterprise at this moment," he explained, and Jim moved forward cautiously into what seemed to be a vast and endless space.

"How is this..." Kirk seemed unable to even voice his question, and Spock gestured around them.

"This small compartment is a hub where many systems converge. I have simply tapped into the Navigational, Location, and Holographic systems."

Kirk knelt down, touching the cool floor while almost expecting his hands to meet with no resistance and fade right into empty space. He sprawled down onto his back, grinning as Spock popped a questioning eyebrow.

"It's called Stargazing. You've surely stargazed before if you really spent years putting up with me," he pointed out, and Spock graced him with a nostalgic smile and lay beside him, the cool metal soaking the warmth from their bodies as Jim pointed to Stars he knew and stars he didn't. After a while Spock joined him by reminiscing on certain adventures.

"In that star system, we first encountered the Romulan Empire," Spock said softly, pointing to a distant point of light. "In that one, we discovered a planet which functioned much like a hallucinogenic amusement park. Doctor McCoy, Mr. Scott and I were stranded on a hostile world orbiting that star. You were forced to fight a Gorn Warrior to the death beneath the light of that star," Spock retold his experiences quietly, gesturing to each star as he remembered their adventures around them. Kirk smiled slightly, then turned to look at the Ambassador, resting his chin in his hand.

"How long did you know me-him-the other Jim?" he asked, and Spock let his eyes wander the heavens as he collected a reply.

"We were introduced when I was reassigned to the Enterprise after a long duration serving under Captain Pike. Initially...we did not see things the same way. However, I came to enjoy your unique style of Command," he mused, and Kirk nodded, glancing up at the flowering gasses of the nebula that painted his face with a technicolor glow.

"We were friends for nearly thirty years."

Jim raised his eyebrows, trying to imagine knowing Spock-knowing anyone-in thirty years. "Please tell me I still have some game when I'm 60," he said with a laugh, and Spock got an odd expression, one that Jim found he could not read. This upset him, as he had come to think of himself as an expert in the reading of Spock.

"What?"

Spock sighed softly. "The Captain did not reach his 60th birthday in my timeline," he murmured, and Jim sat back, trying to decide how he felt about that. Sure, being a Starship Captain was a risky job, and his Captaincy had already proven to be much more hazardous than most, but...not even 60?

"How did I die?"

Spock frowned slightly, indecision clouding his eyes. "I feel it would be ill advised for me to divulge such information-"

"Hey!" Jim interrupted, startling the Vulcan, "It can't hurt anyone. So don't give me any of that 'non interference' crap."

Spock turned his gaze to the stars, picking out the last sun Captain James Tiberius Kirk ever felt on his skin and closed his eyes.

"You were escorting the Enterprise B on her maiden voyage and encountered trouble. She was not outfitted with a proper crew or weapons system. You managed to save the entirety of the crew and a vessel of El-Aurian refugees. You were trapped in a spacial anomaly known only as The Nexus for nearly 80 years before assisting in the orchestration of a great act of heroism which resulted in your ultimate demise."

Jim blinked at the ease with which the Vulcan relayed this course of events, as if he were intimately familiar with each one.

"Ultimate demise?" He pressed. It was a morbid curiosity, he knew, but he had to know. It was a human quality.

"You were trapped beneath a collapsing structure during the battle," Spock replied softly, and Jim felt a twinge of pain in his chest. He nodded, and the two fell into silence for a few moments, stargazing quietly.

"I am sorry, Jim," Spock murmured after a while, and Kirk glanced his way curiously, sitting up off the cold floor.

"What for?"

"I...was not with you at the time of your death," he said almost guiltily, joining Jim in his upright position, and the Captain smiled gently.

"I figured as much." In response to the questioning glance he received for this comment, Jim elaborated; "I mean, if you had been there, there's no way I would have died. You and Bones would drag my half dead carcass to sick bay and beat the life back into me. I guess...I've sort of realized recently that I'm going to die alone."

Suddenly Spock drew the Captain into his arms, trembling ever so slightly as he embraced the Captain with all his being. Jim allowed himself a moment of weakness and reciprocated the gesture, burying his face in the shoulder of this man who was so familiar and yet so foreign all at once. Spock pulled away, having collected himself.

"I apologize for my emotional reaction to that, Jim. You once made an almost identical statement to me and the Doctor," he said softly, and Jim smiled.

"Don't apologize for being emotional, Spock, you know I've always tried to get emotional responses out of you."

They lay back down on the cool metal floor, content to be silent for a while. Jim rolled onto his side and found his head nearly resting on the Ambassador's shoulder. When Spock shifted ever so slightly to facilitate contact, Jim felt warmth bloom in his chest and settled his blonde head into the crook of Spock's shoulder.

"You think if I talk Spock into coming down here, he'll let me cuddle with him while we stargaze?" Jim asked with a laugh, and Spock Prime allowed a small chuckle.

"That scenario, under normal conditions, would sound ridiculous Captain," he pointed out, but Kirk felt a weathered hand come to rest on his shoulder. This companionship was really nice. His Spock would probably turn into someone very similar to this Spock, and Jim realized suddenly that he wanted to see Spock grow old, spend every year with him.

"Hey Spock?" he asked softly, and Spock hummed in reply, the sound causing reverberations beneath Jim's ear.

"Did you still love me when I grew old?"

Spock's arm tightened slightly around the Captain's shoulder. His reply was gentle and simple, much like Spock himself.

"Always."

That sent a thrill of happiness through Jim, and he rested his hand on Spock's ribcage, feeling the thrum of a Vulcan heart. How old was he now? As Bones had explained the Vulcan aging process, they could function just fine on the high side of one hundred. Spock seemed rather ancient, but since he was half human his lifespan was probably slightly less than a full blooded Vulcan...so around 150 then? Maybe fifteen years more or less? He had no way to tell, but the estimate was sobering. If he hadn't lived past sixty...Spock was nearly a century past that. He had lived all those lonely years alone...

"I'm not going to die out here," Jim spoke up suddenly, and the Ambassador looked at him questioningly. His blue eyes were ice hard with determination, and he gestured to the heavens around them.

"I've only got about 100 total years to live; less than 80 now most likely. If that's what I've got, I'm not going to cut that time short; I'm going to spend it all with you. I'm going to grow so old with you you're not even going to want to Vulcan Kiss me. That's a promise," he stated, and Spock smiled, a beautifully tender expression that touched Jim's heart.

"Well you'd best go and make that promise to the one it really belongs to," he pointed out, and stood up. The starscape vanished with a soft sigh, and the two companions made their way back to Spock's quarters in comfortable silence. Jim leaned on the wall as Ambassador Spock entered the door code to his quarters, but reached out to touch the Vulcan's shoulder before he could enter.

"Thank you for showing me everything I have to look forward to," Jim said softly, and extended two fingers to the old man. Spock's eyes widened, and he looked up at Jim in surprise.

"Jim...you know what it means to us." it wasn't a question, and Jim smiled.

"Of course. It's the goodbye you always deserved."

Spock felt a twinge of bittersweet sadness; how perceptive and careless this man was with his steel enclosed feelings. He met the gesture gently, feeling a long dead spark leap to life within his chest; his living bondmate. Some things were so powerful they transcended time and logic; some things could never be broken.

Suddenly Jim leaned forward and gave the Ambassador a chaste kiss, eyes glittering gleefully at the second instance of wide-eyed surprise which he had induced in the Vulcan.

"And that is for the goodbye I deserved," he teased, and waved to the Vulcan as he hurried down the hall, no doubt to find his First Officer.

Spock smiled softly, hand raised in a Vulcan parting gesture.

"Goodbye my T'hy'la. Live Long and Prosper."

The door to Spock's quarters slid open, and the First Officer stirred from sleep instinctively. A familiar voice murmured, "it's okay Spock, it's just me," and the Vulcan settled back on the brink of consciousness. However, he realized that Jim was in his room and had as yet not really greeted him, and turned to gaze blearily at his Captain.

"Jim? Is there something you require?" he asked foggily, and Jim's form shook its head, in the process of removing its boots.

"Why are you here?"

The Human pulled his golden captain's shirt over his head, tossing it carelessly on the floor, and lifted the blankets to climb into bed with his First Officer. He slid an arm around Spock's narrow waist, settling the length of his body along his partner's; they fit together like a puzzle, as if they were made for each other.

"I want to hear you fall asleep. Is it alright if I stay?" he sounded almost self-conscious, and the Vulcan slid his fingers between Jim's in a silent acknowledgement, allowing himself to fall back into sleep's embrace while entangled with his T'hy'la and one true love.

Jim slept with a smile on his face that night.

* * *

**Ship so hard.**

And will you still love me

When I'm no longer young and beautiful?

Will you still love me

When I got nothing but my aching soul?

I know you will, I know you will

I know that you will


	15. Here at the End of All Things

**Y'all have been to happy for a while. Have some TOS angst.**

* * *

**Here at the End of All Things (TOS)**

"The delegation will contemplate your offers. What would you give us in return for access to our Dilithium deposits?"

"By granting you access to the Federation, your world will receive protection, emergency aid, and many other positive perks that are awarded to Federation Members."

"Sounds like a fair trade."

"They just want the dilithium! They'll mine us dry and then leave!"

"Sir, that diagnosis is based entirely upon mistrust and speculation. Vulcans do not lie; I have promised you fair treatment and a membership in the Federation. I have nothing left to offer."

The group of diplomats squabbled and argued back and forth with what seemed like no end, and Spock, if he were inclined to such things, was beginning to grow weary of their petty arguments. Did the Melkot wish to join the Federation or didn't they?

"I can see we have reached something of a standstill. Why don't we reconvene tomorrow?" one of the Federation's human ambassadors suggested, and there were murmurs of agreement throughout. The delegates rose and began milling about.

Spock stood as well, and paused as a sudden pain struck him. He frowned; heart trouble? He was really getting quite old-

Another wave of pain washed over him, and he realized it was not only physical pain, but intense telepathic pain, a psychological agony the likes of which he had never experienced. He clutched his head, stumbling for a steadying hold and, finding none, collapsing to his knees.

"Ambassador!" The young Melkot who had been assigned to see to his needs rushed over, multi-prismed eyes wide with worry. "Ambassador, are you ill?"

Spock gasped raggedly, fighting the currents of anguish, trying to get back to his feet.

Jim. Jim, his mind cried, searching desperately for the other end of their bond, finding nothing but empty space and a broken thread.

"I need...quarters," Spock managed, and the Melkot boy helped him to his feet. The journey to the ambassador's cabin was slow and wavering, and by the time they reached the door the boy was sure Spock was dying.

"Are you sure you don't need-"

"I am only ill. Please, leave me," Spock barked, and the boy shrank from his anger and let the door close behind him.

Spock lurched to the communications panel, taking three attempts to contact Starfleet command. He clutched the sides of the panel, reeling.

This couldn't be true. Jim was wasn't ill, couldn't have been careless enough to get into an accident, and for God's sake he was retired.

"I need to speak with James Kirk," he said as soon as a face popped up to receive his transmission. The young yeoman looked startled at the raw desperation in the Vulcan's voice.

"Sir, Admiral Kirk is away at the moment."

"Away where?"

"I...believe overseeing the Enterprise B's maiden voyage."

Spock closed his eyes, taking a calming breath. Surely he wasn't. This was some sort of mistake. It had to be.

"Sir? Can I help you with anything else?" the yeoman asked gently, sensing the old man's distress, and Spock shook his head.

"Please contact me-" the transmission blinked twice, indicating he had a second transmission coming through, and he cut out the yeoman's concerned face to find the much older, wearier face of Leonard McCoy waiting.

"Oh...Spock. I thought you'd be in a meeting." he sounded resigned, as if he had wished very much to avoid this conversation. He saw the devastation in Spock's eyes and sighed.

"You already know, don't you." Although phrased as such, it wasn't really a question. Spock gripped the sides of the panel, despair and grief and rage thundering through him. No wonder Vulcans undertook Kolinahr to purge emotion-this was too much for any mortal man to handle.

"How?"

"Spock, I'm so-"

"How, Doctor?"

Bones sighed again, a world weary sound that indicated he would prefer not to be in it much longer. "The Enterprise B's maiden voyage. We ran into trouble; she wasn't properly outfitted yet. Jim...he did something down in engineering, fiddling with the power circuits or something I suppose. He saved the whole ship and a vessel of El-Aurian refugees of course."

"You were not with him," Spock interjected, and Bones looked startled before a pained look came over his lined face.

"No, Spock. Neither of us were."

The Vulcan hadn't realized he had stood until the clattering of the chair flying over alerted him to the fact, and he clenched his hands, warring with the emotional discharge of a broken lifebond. He understood now why some Vulcans went insane when their bondmate died.

"He didn't suffer, Spock. Just jettisoned into space. If he had to go...I suppose he'd want it some way like this. He saved dozens of lives. He'll be in space forever. How else would Jim Kirk go out?"

"That is not a relevant point, Doctor," Spock snapped, and normally Bones would have bristled but he just looked sad. "He is dead. Jim...Jim is dead."

He leaned on the console, forehead pressed against cool metal and eyes closed. He would not cry...but why not? He had lost his t'hy'la, his bondmate, the only one who had ever cared for him so deeply that he could change entire worlds for him, move mountains, rattle stars.

A tear tracked down his cheek, the acceptable expression of grief for the loss of a loved one, but the single tear was followed quickly by more, and he collapsed in on himself, burying his face in his arms and weeping.

Jim was dead.

* * *

**I was really mad at Star Trek Generations for Kirk's death. He could have gone to find Spock after remerging from the Nexus-but NO, he had to get a bridge dropped on his head. -_- Angry fans were angry.**

_Frozen inside without your touch_

_Without your love, darling_

_Only you are the life among the dead_

_All this time I can't believe I couldn't see_

_Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me_

_I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems_

_Got to open my eyes to everything_

_Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul_

_Don't let me die here_

_There must be something more_

_Bring me to life_


	16. The Color of You

**Happy Pride Month everyone! In honor of my City's Pride Parade, which I marched in, have a double upload!**

**I hope that no matter who you are or who you love you let your inner light shine. Star Trek taught us that no matter your race, species, sexual orientation or gender, you can do amazing things. Believe in yourself and never let anyone tell you you're wrong.**

**And try to get yourself a space husband because they're awesome.**

* * *

**The Color of You**

It may have been the particular nature of the planet; the incredibly oxygen-rich atmosphere that induced near euphoria in some visitors; the exquisite flora and fauna that painted the landscape in impossible hues; the friendly locals who, after being freed from slavery beneath a race of conquerors, honestly wanted nothing more than to serve their every whim.

Whatever the reason, Spock had broken his long standing 'No Shore Leave' rule for once in his life and was currently strolling along a bright forest path with his Captain. The two spoke little, for very few words were needed; occasionally Jim would point out a particularly beautiful sight or Spock would give a miniature lecture on the nature of some physical feature, but for the most part they were silent.

The pair emerged into a high alpine meadow, a quiet grassy clearing dotted with mountain flowers. Kirk grinned and stretched out a hand. Spock allowed his Captain to draw him into the soft sunshine, and the golden man whirled around in a gleeful circle laughing and brilliant. Spock smiled gently, but was caught by surprise when Jim grabbed both his wrists and pulled him closer, sending them both toppling into the shifting grass.

They looked at each other, one laughing, the other smiling ever so slightly, surrounded by a green ocean and blanketed by a soft blue sky. Jim leaned forward, stealing a kiss from his T'hy'la; Spock brushed his fingers gently down the side of Jim's sun-browned face.

The sun climbed through the azure sky slowly, shedding golden rays on the pair, but they felt no rush to return to the real world. They lay there in the meadow touching, listening, breathing together, minds drawing nearer with gentle familiarity until there is no distinction between them. They are of one mind, one body, one soul.

Jim has always been gold: golden hair, golden skin, golden smile. Even his eyes burned with a fiery glow. Here, in this place of no substance, his entire aura radiated with this warmth, and Spock let himself fall into the honey tinted embrace. He wound himself deeply into the essence of Jim's being; everything was painted in formless color here. Jim was colored in the brilliant ice blue of courage, the hue of his eyes; the crimson of friendship and blood; the fiery glow of determination, a color which reminded Spock of the Vulcan sky; and an impossible shade of every color blended into one that painted Spock's skin with the pure spirit of Jim's affection. It warmed every corner of the Vulcan's spirit, filling him with the knowledge that he was wanted desired adored needed _loved_.

Jim was wrapped inside Spock too. He encountered the sharp blue of the Vulcan's intelligence, the pale green of his undying loyalty, the shimmering black of an insatiable curiosity and need for knowledge. And buried in the very core of Spock's soul a small cloud of the purest white that washed over Jim with intense feeling. These were the Vulcan's most private, treasured emotions, burning Jim's soul with their power. Brother best friend lover soulmate bonded _T'hy'la_.

They parted grudgingly, reemerging in the physical world a bit disoriented to find it was raining. The two ran hand in hand for the trees, shaking clear water from their hair and joking about their misfortune. Suddenly Jim spotted something over the ridge which plunged the forest into a ravine ahead. He turned Spock around, pointing to the heavens.

The most impossibly brilliant rainbow soared across the sky through the gap in the trees, glittering a hundred different colors. That was the color of Jim's love for Spock; every imaginable shade and hue, bright and bold for the world to see. But it was Spock's love too, every shade combined and kept a beautiful secret, hidden behind the soft white of pure light.

Jim pulled his soulmate close, and Spock cradled his lover's face in one pale hand. No kiss was ever more pure, more emotionally poignant, more beautiful than that kiss shared by two males, one human, the other alien, on a foreign world beneath a gentle rain.

* * *

**RAINBOWS**

_You're in my arms, and all the world is calm_

_The music playing on, for only two.._

_So close, together_

_And when I'm with you_

_So close, to feeling alive.._


	17. Sulu Knows

**Another crewmen who just knows :)**

**I changed the category to a crossover because I've been writing some tribbles that really just have to be labeled as TOS and I decided to change the category. Thanks for sticking with me all! I love you!**

* * *

**Sulu Knows**

Yes, the Captain and Commander Spock are...close. Very close. But I don't...I mean, none of the crew takes any notice of it. They're a great command team. Probably the best I've ever seen. I can't explain how much respect I have for the Captain, and without Spock...I mean, he's practically Kirk's shadow.

Do I what? Why would I find them odd? I think it would be odd if they were any other way. It seems...right. The two of them, the way they are. Yes, right is a good way to describe it. They're the most efficient and coordinated pair of officers I've ever met. Why, the Enterprise wouldn't be the same without them, just the way they are.

They would never dream of letting their, ah...relationship interfere with the ship of course. Kirk is practically married to her, and Spock puts duty before all else. I mean...yes, we've gone through some pretty harrowing experiences on her bridge...now that you mention it, we do put the Enterprise in some insane situations just to keep one of them safe-

I mean, to fulfill our completely valid missions that tend to go a bit awry, of course. Their emotional attachment to each other is totally professional and non-interfering with our work on the Enterprise.

Of course.

* * *

**Of course. ;)**

_We held our breath_

_To see our names are written_

_On the wreck of '86_

_That was the year_

_I knew the panic was over_

_Yes since we found out_

_Since we found out_

_That anything could happen_


	18. Disappointment

**This idea is kind of goofy but it came to me while I was hanging with one of my Hetero life mates and she told me I HAD to write it so I did. Hope you enjoy the fluff.**

* * *

**Disappointment**

"Can I take your order, sir?"

The handsome young man looked up from his menu, blinking bright blue eyes at the shapely waitress standing there. His eyes barely breezed over her and he shook his head with a smile, glancing at the window.

"Not yet, thanks. I'm still deciding," he replied easily, and she shrugged and left him be. In fact, this was the second waitress who had approached the dashing patron curiously. He had been sitting here in Eon, the nicest restaurant on this side of the system, for nearly thirty minutes alone, ordering only a glass of Andorian Wine for himself and a glass of water that sat condensating across from him, untouched.

The waitress, a human named Alicia, sidled up to one of her fellow waitresses with a pout.

"You're right. He didn't even look at me. And he's just been sitting there this whole time! What's wrong with this guy?"

Faren, an Aaamazzarite, shook her head. "Alica, he's got to be waiting for someone. He's got that glow around him."

The human squinted at the man dressed in simple Starfleet Blacks, wondering if her alien companion really could detect some sort of aura around him, but she saw nothing and folded her arms.

"I guess you're probably right. He does keep looking at the window," she conceded, and Faren nodded as she passed an order to the busboy.

"I hope he didn't get stood up," Alica added, eyeing the half empty glass he had been sipping at all evening, worried that the intense alcohol might begin to have an effect on him. If he had been dumped, would he start a scene?

No, he seemed serene, ankles folded under his chair as he swirled the deep green liquid in his glass, eyes moving over every face in the restaurant. Faren nodded decidedly.

"The glow...it is Pla'rentak in my language. You humans would call it Love," she explained, and Alicia seemed disappointed.

"With our luck he's going to propose to his girlfriend here tonight or something," she muttered petulantly as she made her way to a table of somewhat rowdy Starfleet Crewmen who had bid her over.

The man waited there for another fifteen minutes alone, browsing the menu before finally ordering a Benzite Shrumka Steak and a Butternut Squash and Pear Ravioli with Rosemary Sauce. A meal for two, no doubt about it.

The host at the front of the restaurant was speaking with a guest, and he gestured in the direction of the young man. A slim, tall male with sleek black hair cut starkly across his forehead strode in the indicated heading, and when the young man looked up their eyes met across the crowded room as if drawn magnetically to each other.

Their greeting was odd to their two observers; the patient waiter stood up smoothly and quickly, eyes alight and face glowing with a smile. His companion, whose slanted brows and crested ears indicated a Vulcan heritage, exchanged some cool words with him, showing a tiny fraction of the affection afforded him by the human in his actions.

The two men sat down across from each other, already engaged entirely in one another's presence. The Vulcan spoke, his low voice creating a rhythmic pattern as the human leaned his cheek on one fist, seemingly completely enthralled by whatever he was saying.

Alicia carried the ordered dishes over, sweeping inquisitive eyes down the Vulcan. He glanced up at her, thanking her for the food, but his human companion barely smiled. He couldn't be bothered to divert his attention from this alien.

Alicia met Faren's eyes and raised her eyebrows in a gesture of grudging surprise.

"Well he's definitely on a date," she conceded, but the young man looked so happy, he glowed so with the Pla'rentak, that the women couldn't bring themselves to be disappointed.

* * *

**Thank you so much for all the positive reviews! They pretty much make my life. I love you all!**

_World was on fire, no one could save me but you_

_It's strange what desire will make foolish people do_

_I'd never dreamed that I'd need somebody like you_

_And I'd never dreamed that I'd need somebody like you_


	19. Bones' Unfortunate Timing

**Thus the pestering of poor Leonard McCoy continues.**

* * *

**Bones' Unfortunate Timing**

Although Dr. Leonard McCoy did not often have reason to visit the recreation rooms on Deck F, that evening he found himself free of any duties as the Chief Medical Officer and had wandered into Rec Room 4. It was mostly deserted, and he settled himself at a corner table for a game of solitaire. The room's only other inhabitants, Sulu and Chekov, were deeply engaged in a thrilling game of Andorian Checkers, and the Russian suddenly gave a cry of fury and threw something at the Asian, initiating an argument which continued all the way out the door and down the hall. Bones shook his head-damn youngsters causing a hell of a lot of unnecessary hubbub.  
In the silence that settled, a soft voice drifted to Bones' ears from a nearby side room, a padded arena used for sparring, sports and other activities. He frowned-a man couldn't find a moment of silence anywhere on this goddamn ship.  
"Like this, Spock?"  
"The legs should be spread slightly. Yes, that is correct."  
"Feels kind of unnatural."  
"Practice assuages any feelings of discomfort Captain."  
Bones narrowed his eyes suspiciously. This was the third god-forsaken time he had overheard the Captain and the First Officer having...compromising conversations. He had no reason to jump to any conclusions.  
"The hips and spine must be properly aligned to facilitate a smooth connection."  
"Hm...it's still not working for me, Spock. It's just not comfortable."  
"Very well. There are many other positions which can be experimented with in order to discover which proves the most efficient."  
McCoy rubbed his eyes. How could he take that innocuously? No matter his past experiences, he felt a blush rising to his face.  
"Show me how you like to do it."  
"That is an ideal request Captain. I will endeavor to properly instruct you in the ancient ways of my people."  
"Ohhh, that's a much better position. Why didn't you just show me in the first place?"  
"Now place your hands like this-"  
"Gotcha."  
"...Jim, just because you achieve a proper stance does not mean you will have successful-"  
Spock broke off because Bones had made quite a racket in the rec lounge as he made for the door, knocking over a table in his haste. He just didn't care anymore, he really just didn't want to know.  
"Bones?"  
He turned back with a wince to see Jim standing in the doorway looking curious. "What are you doing in the rec room? I thought you hated them," the Captain pointed out, and the CMO growled under his breath.  
"Well I came for some peace and quiet! Not to interrupt...whatever it is you two do in your free time," he snapped, and Spock appeared at Jim's shoulder, eyebrow raised.  
"You only disturbed Jim in the process of learning correct meditation techniques," he said dryly, and Bones was torn between the desire to laugh and to throw something.  
"Well you two have a horrible habit of poorly choosing words! You're gonna give a man a goddamn heart attack!" he shouted, and Jim snickered before looking confused.  
"What kinds of poorly chosen words, Bones?"  
The CMO shook his head, feeling an ulcer coming on.  
"Nothing Jim."

* * *

***snickers* Bones just has a dirty mind. **

_I must be dreaming  
Or pinch me to waking_


	20. Chekov Really Doesn't Know

**Well...apparently not **_every_** crewmember knows.**

**Just to warn you lovely wonderful people, my uploading schedule may be a bit irregular for the next two weeks because I'm going to Florida. I will try my best to keep updating daily, but if I miss a day or two try not to freak out ;) **

**I love you guys so so much!**

* * *

**Chekov Really Doesn't Know**

Ze Kepten is a wery nice man, and Commander Spock-

Togezer? What do you mean, togezer? Zey are always togezer, ewery hour of ze day. I wish I had such a good friend myself. My best friend is Sulu, he is wery strong and he tells wonderful stories-

Right, sorry, sorry, I will focus. You wish to know about ze relationship between the Kepten and ze First Officer. Ah...zey are both wery intelligent and good at what zey do, and I wish I could command a starsheep with ze same wigor and witality-what? Wigor and witality. Yes, that is what I said. I...

...it ees a speech impediment ma'am, not an accent.

Oh Sulu! Zis lovely woman is asking about ze Kepten and-oh, she already spoke wich you? I see. What did you say, Hikaru? Why does she want to know about ze Kepten?

Sulu? Why are you blushing like zat? Sulu, what are you not telling me? Uhura? Why are you laughing? Doctor McCoy? What ees it?!

Is there somesing you all are not telling me?!

* * *

**/end shameless Chekov doting/**

_The more things change_

_The more they stay the same_

_Then unexpectedly_

_You came to me_

_I found you sneaking in my dreams_

_The fire in your eyes_


	21. Hands

**Thus was the mandatory Pon Farr drabble written. Enjoy.**

* * *

**Hands **

"Mr. Spock, would you mind transferring these files to engineering?"

I handed off the PADD with the latest updates to my First Officer/Sort of Boyfriend/Not-so-secret object of my affection, fingers brushing against his briefly. I felt a kind of buzz of energy, like he had been building up static electricity, and it startled me.

Spock jerked back from the contact as if it had burned him, nearly dropping the PADD in his haste to get away from me. I stepped back to give him some space, but he made no comment or gave any indication that he had reacted at all to my touch.

Had it been involuntary then? Interesting.

"Knight to E7."

I set my white knight up a level, intercepting an attack from Spock's pawn. It was a trap, unfortunately, and his rook cornered my queen between his bishop and a pawn. I cursed, trying to save my King, but he had me. I fell back in my chair, flicking my King onto his side in defeat.

"You're really getting better, Spock. At this rate you'll even out the score in...127 games?"

He cocked an eyebrow, a slight glimmer of victory in his eyes. God I loved that glimmer.

"I believe I will be eternally one step behind you Jim," he replied, but had already begun resetting the pieces for another game. I liked this cocky spock, and set about helping to rearrange the set.

We reached for the fallen white King at the same time, fingers crashing together. His eyes flashed up to mine, and I saw something unsettling in their dark depths.

Uncertainty, embarrassment, surprise...and the unmistakable dilated pupils of desire.

He removed his hand, regaining his composure with ease, but the memory of Spock's eyes stayed with me.

"I thought you said the natives were friendly!"

I skidded around a rocky outcropping, wood and crude bronze spears clattering off the canyon around us. Just because they were primitive didn't mean they couldn't kill you just as dead as a highly advanced weapon.

"Apparently I made a slight error in my earlier assessment," Spock replied, racing along at my side with no apparent concern for the furious shrieking indigenous horde hot on our heels. I refrained from pointing out that he was a master of understatement and vaulted a boulder; I would have fallen if not for his lightning quick arm that shot out, catching my collar and practically throwing me back to my feet.

His eyes widened in alarm as he noticed the dropping off of the canyon in front of us, and I gauged the distance of the chasm in front of us with significantly less dread. He stared at me with the Vulcan impression of terror.

"Jim, you will not make it," he informed me, and I estimated a leap of 8-10 feet.

"We'll make it," I assured him, altering course to head straight for it. His state of alarm deepened, and he gripped my arm as we ran.

"Jim, you cannot jump a sufficient distance to carry you over the chasm-"

"JUMP!"

I hurtled through the air, Spock's shadow sailing past to land safely on the side, but my Vulcan was very rarely wrong, and I fell just short of the cliff, sliding and scraping my way to a shaky halt on a ledge about five feet from the top.

"Jim!" I looked up to see Spock leaning over the edge, hand outstretched. I clasped it, scrabbling for a hold as we heaved together, and he finally dragged me over the rim and behind a rock formation to take cover from the rain of spears from the locals.

I gasped raggedly in pain when he knelt to inspect my road rash, and when he looked up his eyes flashed furiously.

"I told you you could not make it," he snapped, and I smiled weakly.

"I knew you'd catch me," I teased, taking his hand to move it away from my leg, and he stiffened, already dark eyes catching mine with an unsettling fire. Didn't I read somewhere that extreme stress turns Vulcans on?

He drew his hand away, and I decided that there was definitely some sort of connection between hands and arousal in Vulcans.

And I began to form a plan.

I called it, "Get Spock to sleep with me Plan F." I chose that name because, well...plans A through E had already failed. A had consisted of mostly just trying to sweet talk him into bed; he hadn't batted so much as an eyelash. Plan B went a more traditional route with a date, flashy show, real romantic and all the jazz-Spock had seemed offended by my treating him like a woman and had not spoken to me for several days afterwards.

Plan C involved a lot of factual arguments and reasons that he should sleep with me. Logically, he should have been near caving in to the stunning amounts of my charm. In fact, Plan C was still in effect and I had to believe I was wearing him down.

Plan D...well, let's just say that Vulcans really don't appreciate finding their significant other lying naked in their quarters after misusing the Captain Override Codes. I was still in quite a bit of trouble for that fiasco, and Plan E-make-up sex-was proving to be a giant disappointment.

Of course, I understood that sex was a really big deal for Vulcans and not to be taken lightly-but I really was putting a lot of effort into the whole monogamy thing and it was slowly killing me.

Thus, the letter had moved on to F-figure out what the deal was with Spock's hands and potentially score some bedding points in the process.

"Mr. Spock, please report to the Captain's quarters at 1800 this evening to have your ass thoroughly whooped in Chess," I called through the conn, and there was only silence in reply. I frowned-he normally at least made some sort of snide comment about how he was currently having a winning streak, or pointed out that I was misusing a Captain's order, or perhaps even that 'whoop' was being improperly used in my sentence.

When none of those things occurred, I began to get a bit suspicious. I conned him twice more and when neither one was met with reply, I dropped everything and forged my way across D deck to the First Officer's Quarters.

"Spock, are you here?" I inquired at the door, pressing the chime for entry. No reply. I stepped up to the computer console on the wall, pressing my access code in quickly.

"Computer, search Enterprise for Science Officer Spock," I ordered, and after a brief instant the Computer replied, "Science Officer Spock is in his quarters."

Something was definitely up. I moved back to the door and chimed once more to be certain before tapping in the Captain's Override code. The door whooshed open and I stepped inside the veritable oven of the Vulcan's quarters. Inside was dark, and the scent of burning candles wafted over me.

"Spock?" I ventured, moving further in, and his voice spoke up suddenly from the depths of his cabin.

"Captain. You should not be here."

I turned to follow the sound and found him sitting in the corner on the floor, legs crossed, eyes closed and hands upturned on his knees. He was meditating.

"Is everything alright, Spock?" I asked, and he drew a tight breath.

"It is not. But I must deal with it alone." his tone was clipped, sharp and much more hostile than I had ever heard it before, and I frowned.

"There's nothing I can do for you?" I urged, and his hands tightened where they rested on his knees.

"...I would ask that, if no other missions require our presence, we set a course for New Vulcan," he said slowly, as if the words were difficult to form, and I nodded.

"Of course, Spock. Anything you need," I promised, and I meant it. Surely he knew I would do anything for him. He drew another short, tight breath, eyes never opening.

"Thank you, Captain."

I nodded, but did not take my leave. Spock was having some sort of nervous breakdown, or maybe he was finally feeling the effects of the past few years of stress for what they really were. Perhaps he was rethinking their relationship as it stood.

"Spock-"

"Captain," he interrupted rudely, "I really am in no condition to have any sort of conversation with you at this time." His voice came out almost pained, and I threw logic out the window and knelt in front of him.

"Spock, please, just let me help-"

"I cannot speak of it!" he cried suddenly, eyes snapping open as he lurched back from my touch, and we both froze that way as he begged me with his eyes to allow his silence. I could not comply.

"I can't help you if you won't tell me what's going on," I murmured, sidling closer like you would to a frightened and wounded animal. He actually flinched when I brushed my hand against his arm, but when his eyes flashed up to mine they were startlingly intense. His hand snapped up to catch my wrist, and we stayed that way for a moment before his dark eyes slid down to my fingers that stretched inches from him. I was reminded of a panther observing a particularly tasty bit of prey, and that made me a little bit uncomfortable and a lot turned on.

His other hand came up to touch my palm with butterfly fingertips, spreading my fingers so they lay directly against his pale, long ones. My skin buzzed pleasantly, and he took his index and middle fingers and stroked down the insides of my adjacent digits. The buzz became a burn, still pleasant but creating interesting effects on my heartbeat. I swallowed, inhaling a little too loudly, and those eyes glanced at me quickly again.

"Spock," I murmured, and he suddenly clutched my hand in a deathgrip and yanked me towards him, his other arm winding around me tightly. I admit I gasped sharply, and when I ended up straddling his lap with his hand on my hip and his lips at my throat I reeled in startled excitement.

"Jim," he mimicked my low tone, and his murmur in my ear shot straight to my arousal. I tangled a hand in his hair and kissed him, a culmination of every tiny peck and embrace he had granted me prior. He tilted his head and I delighted in the slight parting of his lips, allowing me entry to explore his mouth. He was hot to the touch, which seemed unusual, and his tongue felt rough as it sparred with mine.

I pulled at his shirt and he broke our connected lips and fingers, allowing me to strip it over his head. His pale skin seemed more green hued than usual, flushed perhaps, and I yelped in surprise as he pitched forward abruptly, all but tackling me to the floor.

"Jim...be one with me," he practically growled to me, and if he had been anyone else I might have been afraid of the pools of black his eyes had become. But the pent-up tension between us urged me onward and I wound my arms around his neck.

"Of course."

He tore the fabric from my body as if it were tissue paper, tossing it aside and pulling me to him, as if he were desperate to feel the touch of skin. We kissed, touched, tasted, feeling every part of one another which had never been explored. He took me-I took him. It did not matter who was inside the other; it was an act of trust as we set aside our pride and gave ourselves entirely unto the other. It was an equalizing experience, tinted with the red and green of blood and the darkness of a startlingly primal nature which I had never seen in Spock.

It was exhilarating, satisfying, and a little bit frightening. He hardly spoke; there were no words in the place in which he resided, and when the madness had finally subsided we lay in a heap of sweat and breath, tangled amongst the sheets of his bed where we had moved sometime during our passions.

"Captain..." he murmured after a long while of stillness, and I turned slowly, painfully to face him. The Vulcan race sported near herculean stamina that, even with my impressive endurance, had left what might be some embarrassing bruises.

"Yes Spock?" I replied, brushing a finger down the curve of his ear. He shivered gently at the touch, dark eyes avoiding mine. Whatever insanity had gripped him, it seemed to have passed, and his cheeks were slightly dark with embarrassment.

"I must sincerely apologize for my conduct in this matter-I...am not myself," he said carefully, withdrawing slightly from my touch, and I frowned curiously.

"I can see that, Mr. Spock," I glanced pointedly down at the purpling marks on my hips and the scratches on my shoulders, and his ears colored vividly.

"I am sorry, Jim," he moved to get out of bed, and I caught his arm, urging him back down beside me.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that," I assured, and he ran assessing fingers over the more vibrant of my wounds. "I just meant you were more...uninhibited than usual."

"Indeed," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "That would be an understatement of my current status."

"And what is that current status, exactly?" I asked, and he actually settled further into the blankets, his fingers still tracing over my skin.

"It is...to do with Biology sir."

"Biology? What kind of Biology?"

"...Vulcan Biology."

I frowned at his evasiveness, settling to be eye to eye with my Vulcan. He seemed supremely embarrassed both with his actions and whatever this strange Vulcan biological issue was.

"Biology...you mean..." I contemplated his almost animal conquering of his Captain and raised my eyebrows in a Spockian gesture of realization. "Reproduction?"

He stiffened, but he had nothing to hide from me at this point except what his Vulcan philosophies dictated he refrain, but I saw him contemplating how much he should tell me.

"It...is called Pon Farr," he began to explain the Vulcan's need, every seven years, to return home to Vulcan to mate. However since the destruction of their homeplanet, the practice had changed out of necessity.

"My betrothed was killed in the destruction of Vulcan. I...did not know exactly what it was I would do when this time came...Thank you...for coming to my aid." His words stumbled a bit, which I found surprising, and he almost nestled closer in his insecurity. I wound my arms around him, pulling him close. He hesitated for a moment before his long arms came up to wrap around my back, resting between my shoulder blades, and he rested his face against my neck. It was a moment of weakness-he was trusting me with his nature, his body, his heart. I rested my cheek against his forehead, promising silently that I would never abuse that right.

"If you'll have me, I'll come to your aid every Pan...For...um, Pun Fire..."

"Pon Farr," he corrected, and I nodded, nuzzling him affectionately.

"Right. Pon Farr. And any other time you need me," I added as a soft afterthought, and he lifted his eyes to me. He seemed mildly befuddled by this comment.

"You would come at any call I would give?" he asked, and I looked into his thoughtful eyes and kissed the tip of his nose. This action seemed to startle him, and I chuckled.

"Of course."

"Why?"

I sighed, shaking my head and threading our fingers together.

"You'll understand when we're older."

* * *

**Hope you like my lame little pseudo smutlets.**

_I want to live where soul meets body_

_And let the sun wrap its arms around me_

_And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing_

_And feel, feel what its like to be new_


	22. Little Knit Cap

**Be prepared for extreme goofiness. You have been warned.**

* * *

**Little Knit Cap**

"Now this society is fairly primitive tech-wise; medieval class weaponry, live in small villages, and they still keep slaves. They've never seen a Vulcan before, so Spock, you'll need to cover those ears-they're also pretty innocent and strictly religious, so Bones...just don't talk at all."

The landing party comprised of Spock, Bones, Ensign Ball and I approached the replicator room where the computer would cook up some appropriate attire for our beam down.

Bones came out looking dour as usual, swathed in a simple grey tunic that came to his bare knees topping some Roman-esque sandals. I grinned at my longtime best friend, tugging on one short sleeve as Spock followed Ensign Ball into the room for their disguises.

Bones swatted at my hand, glowering. "What are you smiling at?" he growled, and I shrugged innocently. Definitely not his scrawny chicken legs.

The door swooshed open and I turned around to take my own turn when the sight I was met with floored me unexpectedly, rendering me momentarily speechless.

Spock's tunic was similar in style to McCoy's, although his was equipped with long sleeves and some sort of leggings, but my gaze zeroed in on what was on his head.

A small white knit cap fit snugly over his cranium, hiding the tips of his ears, and only the very fringes of his sleek stark hair peeked out.

It was the most unbelievably adorable thing I had ever seen.

"Captain?" he popped an eyebrow in question, and I felt my face warm when I was staring in stupid silence. I coughed to cover up my momentary insanity, but the damage had been done. Ensign Ball was looking anywhere but at me or Spock, his cheeks slightly red with embarrassment, and Bones rolled his eyes blatantly, muttering under his breath about 'idiot Jim' and 'goddamn schoolboy crush.' Spock just folded his arms behind his back, meeting my gaze nothing if not calmly.

I ignored them all, sweeping into the replicator room for my costume, but my mind was otherwise occupied; I had to figure out how to get Spock to wear that little cap more often.

* * *

**Spock's Caps 3 His goddamn adorable little CAPS. 3 Ahhhh I love them. So much. It's an obsession. **

**Hey guys! I'm posting my new full-length fic tomorrow instead of another tribble so go check it out! I love and value you guys so much thanks for sticking out this word vomit story with me!**

_Starts with one I can't feel_

_It's all in your mind anyway_

_I can't heal_

_Make me feel this way_


	23. If You're Playing This

**This tribble is based off of TOS episode 9 season 3, the Tholian Web. Jim's tape to Spock and Bones has a second side. What does it say?**

* * *

**Since You're Playing This Tape, We'll Assume That I Am Dead**

As the First Officer, the duty to make Captain Class decisions often falls on Spock's shoulders. Jim puts himself in all kinds of ridiculous situations, and leaves the Vulcan in charge-usually a fine idea in the short term. But not this time.

This time, Jim may or may not be dead, we're trapped in a dangerous sector of space which is driving the crew slowly mad and we're being fenced in by some goddamned alien deathtrap we're calling the Tholian Web. We need a Captain to get us out of this; we need Jim.

And instead we have an emotionless Vulcan at the helm who, despite his rigid claims that he sticks to logic, has already endangered the Enterprise unnecessarily because of his fool undying loyalty to Jim. As the Chief Medical Officer, I'm trying to do much more than my Job should have ever required of me.

"The one thing that would have given his death meaning is the safety of the Enterprise. Now you've made that impossible, Mister Spock."

He knows I'm blaming him. It's wrong and I know I shouldn't, but I've lost my best friend and I'm angry and hurt. I just can't understand why Spock insisted we linger here, and now we're dead in the water with guns aimed our way.

"We came here for a specific purpose, Doctor," he reminds me, turning away, and I snap the case holding Jim's medal of valor closed sharply.

"Maybe not the same one! I...really came here to find out why you stayed and fought," I admit, and he faces me, cool and collected as always.

"The Captain would have remained to recover a member of the crew at the risk of his life or even the ship," Spock reminds me, logically of course, and I bristle.

"Yes, he would, Mister Spock, but you didn't have that decision to make. What would you gain by fighting the Tholians? You could have assured yourself of a captaincy by leaving the area. But you chose to stay. Why?"

He pauses; I know why, and he knows I know why, but I'm being petty, trying to force him into saying it, into admitting an emotional reaction. He stayed because he would always stay, we both would, to the ends of time and space if there was a chance he could recover Jim alive.

" I need not explain my rationale to you or any other member of this crew. There is a margin of variation in any experiment. While there was a chance, I was bound legally and morally to ascertain the Captain's status."

I realize he's saying he stayed for Jim, in his own confounded way. "You mean...to be sure if he was dead." We stare at one another silently for a moment before my anger rares up again, striking at him blindly like a wounded animal.

"Well, you made certain of that."

"That is enough Doctor," he interrupts almost sharply, his equivalent of shutting me down violently, and stares coldly at me through those unfeeling but uncomfortably expressive eyes. "We both have more important things to do."

"Yes I have something to do," I reply quickly, and he turns in his chair-Jim's chair-and looks up at me in surprise. " If this crew is to survive, I have to find an antidote to this space you've locked us into," I accuse, and he tenses almost imperceptibly.

"You will return to your duty as soon as we've discharged our responsibilities here," he orders, and I feel my hackles rise at the commanding tone in his voice. He settles so easily into Jim's place, it drives me crazy.

" There's no hurry, Mister Spock. The antidote probably doesn't concern you. Vulcans are probably immune, so just take your time," I snap, and he turns to the safe beneath Jim's desk and enters a combination. Spock knows it by heart...I don't know that combination. That realization strikes me more bitterly than it should have. I'm his best friend, true, but I'm not his first officer; not his number one.

"I must admit I don't understand you, Spock, but I just can't believe that you would want Jim's command. You must know that if you get us out of this situation, they'll pin a medal on your chest and give you command of the Enterprise."

Why am I saying these things? Spock has no desire to command a starship; he's made that clear on several occasions. But the ever so slight shocked widening of his eyes gives me some sick satisfaction.

"Doctor, I am in command of the Enterprise," he reprimands sternly, and I catch a furious breath, staring him down.

"I would like to remedy that situation."

This is how we function; we spit poison at each other and growl and show our teeth because we're both hurt, and we just can't allow ourselves to show weakness to the other. Spock puts a bright yellow disc into the slot on the monitor before standing, tipping the balance of power in his favor with his superior height.

"If you believe I have acted irregularly, then relieve me of duty. That is your prerogative as medical officer of this ship."

There is an inherent 'I dare you' in his tone, and I fold my hands behind my back stiffly, refusing to rise to the bait. I'm not the only one who tries to get emotional responses from him; it's a two way street.

"Bones, Spock."

We both turn towards the monitor at the sound of our names, and I feel my heart clench up. That's Jim on the screen, talking to a camera with a serious expression.

"Since you are playing this tape, we will assume that I am dead, that the tactical situation is critical, and both of you are locked in mortal combat," he explains, and we exchange the tiniest of glances. He had predicted the situation well.

"It means, Spock, that you have control of the ship and are probably making the most difficult decisions of your career. I can offer only one small piece of advice, for whatever it's worth. Use every scrap of knowledge and logic you have to save the ship. But temper your judgment with intuitive insight."

He is gazing stoically at the screen, of course, but I can see it in the rigidity of his back, the tightness of his clenched hands, the slightest shimmer in his eyes; he's in pain. Jim believes in him, he always has for whatever reason, and he used his last words to tell Spock that.

"I believe you have those qualities, but if you can't find them in yourself, seek out McCoy."

He glances at me, and I feel surprised and almost embarrassed. Me?

"Ask his advice. And if you find it sound, take it." That was an order, and I look away from Jim's face to avoid the tears I can feel burning in my eyes. We can't be a team Jim, we'll just squabble and fight and bring the whole damn ship down around our heads!

"Bones, you've heard what I've just told Spock. Help him if you can. But remember he is the Captain. His decisions must be followed without question. You might find that he is capable of human insight and human error. They are most difficult to defend, but you will find that he is deserving of the same loyalty and confidence each of you have given me."

Now he's entrusting me to keep his first in check, to balance him out and to take care of him. What can I say to that? How could I justify my comments earlier? I go out of my way to antagonize Jim's...I stop that train of thought before I can get into it and turn back to the screen to see Jim's sunbrowned face and kind eyes wishing us goodbye.

"Take care."

And then the screen goes dark.

Spock removes the disc gingerly, almost reverently, placing it back in its leather satchel, and I clear my throat awkwardly.

"Spock, I, ah...I'm sorry," I apologize softly, and he raises his eyes to gaze blankly at the opposite wall. I can see him reigning in grief. God, I'm such an idiot; of course he feels. Sometimes I think he might even feel more deeply than I can imagine.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" I urge, handing him back Jim's medal, and he sighs shortly, an irritated sound. He won't look at me.

"What would you have me say, Doctor?"

What would you have me say? I guess I don't have an answer for that, and I fold my arms and look away.

He is called to the bridge, and as he strides out I linger for a while in Jim's quarters. The walls are familiar, I've been here often enough, and I sit down wearily in his chair.

"Oh Jim. Jim you son of a bitch," I mutter, closing my eyes. The chair back hits several of the controls on the safe, and it slides open, startling me into turning around. The Vulcan son of a gun must not have closed it completely. In a bout of sentimentality, I draw the golden disc out of its case, running my thumb over the edges thoughtfully.

"You've got a hell of a lot more faith in us than we have, Jim," I mutter, and slip the device back into the slot to hear his voice tell me what to do. We were lost without Jim.

"Spock."

I jerk in surprise. The message is different; I must have placed the disc in the opposite direction, it's a double coded tape. Jim's face is so sad and almost tender, I feel a little guilty watching it. It's meant for Spock, not me.*

"If I'm really gone...I can only imagine that you and Bones tried everything in your power to save me. Don't blame yourself. Don't let Bones blame himself-or you-either. It's not through any failing of yours. I've...I've always known I would die alone."

I close my eyes, fists clenching. God damn him, he would get himself killed the moment we turned our backs.

"I can only apologize for leaving you this way, Spock. At the time this was recorded...things between us were a bit complicated. I suppose I should apologize for that too. We humans tend to cause turmoil and just can't help but act irrational and emotional. I know you've always found that frustrating."

I definitely feel a little guilty now. These are Jim's words, Jim's last words for Spock, not for me. It's private, personal. But I can't stop listening.

"Although you'd probably reprimand me for being sentimental...I'm sure I'll miss you wherever I'm going. And Spock...since I was too foolish, too cowardly to say it when I was alive...I love you, My T'hy'la. Goodbye."

The screen falls dark and I stand up sharply. God damn him and his awful taste in love! Doesn't he know that Spock, that Vulcans...I laugh bitterly. Of course he knows.

I put the disc back and venture outside into the hall, nearly toppling over Lieutenant Uhura as she came rushing out of her room, and I put Jim's last confession out of my mind for the time being.

Jim spins in his chair to face me, his Chief Medical Officer and his First, smiling. It's so good to see that smile again.

"How did you two get along without me?" he asks, and I respond immediately, somewhat sarcastically.

"Oh, we managed. Mister Spock gave the orders, and I found the answers," I said smugly, and Jim nods, accepting that.

"Good. No...problems between you?" He asks because he knows how Spock and I get, and Spock replies as I gaze tight-lipped at the wall.

"None worth reporting, Captain," He assures, and I see Jim's sensors go up. That was a typical Spock evasion of answering the question.

"Try me."

Spock contemplates his answer, humming thoughtfully. "Only such minor disturbances as are inevitable when humans are involved," he decides, and Jim tenses almost defensively.

"Which humans, Mister Spock?" he urges, and I quickly step in. Spock never heard his last message, he doesn't know about his apology or his confession. I feel somewhat responsible for keeping this secret that way.

"He means when humans become involved with Vulcans, Jim," I translate, and Spock looks at me in surprise, but makes no comment on the matter. Jim relaxes minimally.

"Ah, yes. I understand. Well, I hope my last orders were helpful in solving any problems that you don't feel worth reporting."

We exchange a silent glance, and I give the tiniest shake of my head. We will not speak of his final words to anyone.

"Orders, Captain?" he feigns innocence, and I jump on the bandwagon quickly.

"What orders are you referring to, Jim?"

Confusion clouds Jim's face, and he elaborates. "My last orders. The last orders that I left for both of you. The last taped orders."

I compound upon my innocence. "Oh, those orders. Well, there wasn't time. We never had a chance to listen to them," I lie, and Spock agrees.

"No. You see, the crisis was upon us, and then passed so quickly, Captain, that we n...never..." he trails off, and I curse his blasted Vulcan honesty. But Jim seems to buy it, more or less, or at least agrees to go along with our charade, and smiles.

"Good. Good. Well, I hope we won't have similar opportunities to test those orders which you never heard."

And that, hopefully, is the last we'll ever hear of Jim's last orders. Although as I head to the turbolift to make my way back to Sickbay where I belong, I see the Captain cast a glance at Spock, and I feel quite sure that he won't wait until he's dead to make things right between them now.

* * *

**Also, writing in Bones' POV is really hard DX. **

_Until the day I die_

_I'll spill my heart for you, for you_

_Until the day I die_

_I'll spill my heart for you_

_As years go by_

_I race the clock with you_

_But if you died right now_

_You know that I'd die too_

_I'd die too_


	24. At Last, My Love

**I seriously love you guys for sticking with this fluff boat to the end. This is probably the final chapter, although I may add some new ones in the future if I become inspired. **

**I love you all! **

* * *

**At Last, My Love**

I have nearly died many times in the course of my life. I have been poisoned, shot by phaser fire, stabbed, shot by old fashioned lead pellets, bombed, and on one occasion relieved of my brain. I have actually died once before; I remember very little of the experience. My intelligence was torn between its holding place inside Doctor McCoy and a frighteningly empty darkness in which I floated without sense of time or self. Oblivion.

I was quickly returned to my proper location inside my own form. However...I have often wondered if I might have left a part of myself there in that darkness.

Death took me quite by surprise; bursts of flame and young voices screaming, smoke and chaos, and destruction I could never have foreseen. I floated there at the edge of that final precipice for what felt like an eternity before I slipped...waiting for you, I suppose.

Waiting for Jim.

You never...

Jim...

Darkness.

Sunlight, warm and vibrant, is warming my skin, leaking through my closed eyelids and painting the insides of my eyes orange and purple. I blink, momentarily blinded by the brilliance of the light. A window lies directly in front of me, overlooking a forested valley and craggy blue peaks stretching for the sky. I blink again and the window is gone, replaced by the pale grey wall of a starship interior.

I sit up slowly-I realize I had been lying down hence-and survey my surroundings. I appear to be in sickbay aboard the Enterprise, which momentarily confuses me. I distinctly recall an impossible gap of time lying between myself and this place. To be here now...

"About time. You've been unconscious for so long I was about to move you to the coma ward," a familiar voice grouses to my left, and I turn to find a disgruntled Doctor McCoy leaning in the doorway. His eyes move up and down my figure, seeming discontent in their nature; then again, he is Dr. McCoy and I rarely knew him to occupy an emotional state differing from discontent.

I observe him too; he appears to be in his late 40's, his relative age at the height of our endeavors aboard the Enterprise, our five year mission of exploration and discovery.

"I assure you, Doctor, it was not my intention to distress you," I quip back to him, and his eyes narrow. They are a much starker blue than I remember; every color here is vivid and intense.

"The only thing distressing me is you cluttering my sickbay! If you're fine then get out of here and let me work!" he snaps, and I raise an eyebrow in slightly pointed triumph.

"Doctor, if I have been unconscious for an extended period of time, would it not be prudent to complete a full medical examination before releasing me?"

McCoy's expression takes on an exceedingly frustrated nature and he storms over, face deeply lined with dangerous emotion.

"You telling me how to do my job?" he growls, and I meet his gaze calmly and innocently.

"Certainly Doctor. Since you have apparently forgotten proper procedure, I will likely continue to advise you until such a time that you demonstrate an acceptable level of competency for me to leave you to your own devices," I say with a final flare of insult, and his face reddens in fury.

"You green-blooded hobgoblin! I ought to wring your Vulcan neck!" he practically howls, and I raise both eyebrows in mock surprise, fending easily his flailing arms as he swings them at me in a jesting but furious onslaught.

"The act of murder seems something of an overreaction, Doctor," I point out, catching his wrists, and he scowls. But there is a slight upturn of his lips and his vibrant eyes seemed alight with mirth. Upon the ceasing of his struggling, I release him and he surprises me by letting out a burst of laughter, and irrational reaction. He claps a hand on my shoulder, shaking his head as his bout of joy dies.

"It's really been too long, old friend. It's good to see you."

His abrupt change in demeanor confuses me, and he motions for me to get up and follow him as I try to decipher his odd behavior. Leonard McCoy always was a most difficult human to understand, and the many years between our last meeting does not lend assistance to my struggle.

I stand and am surprised to find every muscle not only in perfect working condition, but actually perfect, much more lithe than I had ever been and a significant improvement upon the ancient bones I have become accustomed to.

"Well? You coming?" He gestures impatiently, and I stride across the room to join him. He leads me down the familiar hallways, almost ambling in his pace, as if there is something he wishes to speak about. Finally, he does.

"How've you been, Spock?" he asks gently, and I raise an eyebrow in reply. He knows that this is a physical manifestation of my confusion with his reasoning for asking the question in the first place and scowls defensively.

"Well it's been a while! Hell, Spock, I haven't seen you in about a hundred years. It's allowed for me to want to be friendly!"

"I suppose you are entitled to your expressions of emotion, Doctor. May I ask a question?" He looks a bit surprised that I accepted his explanation so easily, but nods.

"Are we dead?"

He sighs. "You know Spock, I feel like it would be impossible to discuss that without a common frame of reference," he snaps, and I pause in my walking as I realize he is turning my own words on me. I raise an impressed eyebrow.

"Well, Doctor, it would seem we have finally reached such a frame. We have both gone, as you would no doubt agree, where all men must go," I point out, and he rolls his eyes.

"Yes Spock, we're dead. Were you expecting more of a pearly gates scene, or maybe the tartarusian pit would better fit your expectations?"

"I can only assume you are indicating that I am more suited for your Christianity's Hell than Heaven, but I assure you Vulcan has no such ideals. I had no pre-existing expectations on the matter. Would you explain something to me?"

"Well since I'm your Crossing Guide, that's the general idea," he replies with that particularly sharp tone which was indicative of his peculiar brand of sarcasm.

"Crossing Guide?"

"Mhm. The Keepers pulled me out of my perfectly happy place here just to escort your sorry ancient Vulcan ass to your Elysium."

"Elysium; an Ancient Greek ideal of the afterlife which entailed a paradise for the righteous and deserving. You are taking me to a place based on such a concept?" I postulate, and he shrugs, boarding the turbolift and gripping the handle.

"Top Floor," he orders, ignoring my question at the present time, and I try to suppress the wave of irritation I feel at this reaction to my perfectly valid inquiry.

"I can only take you so far, then you're on your own. My job is to sort of explain what will be expected of you and whatnot. Jim did a godawful job of explaining it all to me, I'll tell you that!"

This comment gives me reason to pause; why hadn't the Captain met me here?

"...Jim is here?" I ask, and McCoy sighs as the turbolift slows to a halt.

"I'm just the Crossing Guide, Spock. I don't know what your Paradise looks like or who you'll see there or any of that. It's different for everyone."

The doors slide open, momentarily blinding me again with light. I am gazing out onto the same aesthetically pleasing forest scene which greeted me earlier, and down a small winding dirt road rests a log cabin cut from the land. I blink and the vista is gone, and I find myself staring down a grey hallway that ends in another red turbolift door.

"I can't take you any farther. Your Shepherd will guide you from the other side of that door," McCoy explains somewhat unhelpfully, and as I take the first step into the hallway he suddenly clutches my arm.

"Be careful, Spock. Don't linger here or you could get stuck," he warns seriously, and I pop an eyebrow.

"Stuck, Doctor?"

"Yes, Spock, stuck!" he snaps, "where do you think ghosts come from?"

Normally I would have ridiculed his statement, but the echoing hallway gives me a strange feeling and I am inclined to believe his superstition. I nod.

"Very well, Doctor. I will not stop."

He lets me go and I step into the hallway. The door swishes closed and I begin to walk, and as I do so a curious thing begins to happen. The grey walls begin to swirl with colors and sound, voices and faces and scenes from my past.

_"What do you make of it, Mr. Spock?"_

_"So help me, I'm actually pleased to see you!"_

_"All I know is logic."_

_"I felt for him, too."_

_"I believe there's some hope for you after all, Mr. Spock."_

_"Space still contains infinite unknowns."_

_"We humans are full of unpredictable emotions that logic cannot solve."_

_"The logical thing for you to have done was to have left me behind."_

_"Mr. Spock, you're a stubborn man."_

_"It is my right. By tradition, the male is accompanied by his closest friends."_

_"Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you know how much Starfleet has invested in you?"_

_"Random chance seems to have operated in our favor."_

_"One does not thank logic."_

_"Spock, I don't know too much about these little tribbles yet, but there is one thing that I have discovered. I like them better than I like you."_

_"I liked you better before you died!"_

_"Men like us don't have families."_

_"You have not yet achieved Kolinahr. He must search elsewhere for his answer. He will not find it with us. Live long and prosper, Spock."_

_"Jim... This simple feeling is beyond V'ger's comprehension."_

_"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few...or the one."_

_"I have been and always will be your friend."_

_"James T. Kirk!"_

I reach out and touch the cool red metal of the door, a startling amount of desperation welling up inside me. These memories are mine, from every step of my life and every face I ever encountered. The door slides open and the dreadful cacophony ceases. I look up and feel joy expand in my chest, nearly pulling a smile from me.

"Mother," I greet her, and she smiles at me with all the gentleness and love which are characteristic of a mother who truly loves her child. She embraces me, taking my face in her hands and analyzing my appearance for a moment before she speaks.

"Oh Spock. It's been too long, my beloved son," she says emotionally, kissing my forehead gently. I allow the contact because I have honestly missed her and feel no reason to deny myself the gratification of being once again in her presence. A slight pang of sorrow flares inside me; my young counterpart will be denied nearly fifty years I spent with our mother. That thought makes this reunion even more emotional.

"You are my...Shepherd?" I ask, and she nods, smoothing the front of my blue starfleet uniform. I have not worn this in many years...but I spent the best years of my life in its fabric folds and it seems right that I should find myself in it now.

"Yes. Follow me, and don't look back," she instructs. I obey, striding in her shadow as she leads me into a wild jungle environment which is both familiar and disconcerting. I know it...but as if from a dream.

"Where is this place, Mother?" I ask, and the luminous moon that rests on the horizon begins to dip below it. She offers me her hand, which I take.

"Genesis. You remember being here?" she inquires, and I shake my head.

"Why are we here?"

"Spock...as you once said yourself, each of us at some time in our lives asks, "Why am I here? What was I meant to be?" You must accept that the answers to these questions are not to be discovered. You decide why you are here, you choose what you are meant to be. Why do you think we are here?"

I ponder this statement for a moment. "I would assume it is because this place was a source of rebirth, of second chances. I took my new life and spent it in a way which I do not regret," I decide, and she smiles.

"You are very wise, my son. And what were you meant to be?"

This answer does not come as easily to me. We wander in the darkness beneath a million brilliant stars and suddenly I am struck with an acceptable response.

"At Jim Kirk's side," I say firmly, and her eyes glitter in silent appraisal. She holds an unspoken question in her eyes, and I elaborate.

"My role in life has changed many times, Mother; First Officer, Science Officer, Captain, Teacher, Ambassador, Wanderer. But the place where I felt most at home was always by his side. Kolinahr was not effective on me because it was at his side where I found my inner peace. I was meant to be Jim Kirk's First, always."

Suddenly the jungle flickers like a malfunctioning hologram to be replaced by a pine forest bathed in morning sunlight, and the white crested mountains around us soar to the sapphire sky. I turn to my mother in question, but she is gone, and instead I find myself facing a winding dirt path that disappears down slope into the forest. Given no other option, I follow it along its dappled way until I emerge from my trek in a sunny clearing.

The same log cabin which I perceived in my earlier vision nestles in the trees before me, and no sooner have I decided to go towards it than I find myself at the door, hand raised to knock. I follow through with the motion, and it opens beneath my fingers.

I step inside, the cool dark interior smelling of leather and earth and pine and something vaguely, achingly familiar-

"Spock?"

I start and turn towards the voice which I recognize immediately, because who else in the entire universe says my name that way? With warmth and surprise, an extra inflection on the first two letters and a linger on the last as if he savors the sound?

There he is, standing in the doorway to another room dressed in a faded gold and black plaid patterned shirt holding a ceramic plate and dishrag as if it were the most natural thing in the world. When our eyes meet he drops the plate, and the shattering sound barely reaches my ears as I decide 'to hell with emotional suppression.' We throw ourselves through the space between us, meeting with star-rattling force, and he embraces me so tightly I believe for a moment that he may break my ribs but it doesn't matter because he is whispering my name and clutching my hand and our hearts are beating together again as they haven't for nearly one hundred years.

"Spock...I've been waiting for a very long time for you to get here," he murmurs, and I stroke my fingers down the side of his face, unable to keep the soft smile from my lips. Only Jim will see; he has already seen every part of me, no sense in hiding anything from him.

"I am sorry it took so long, T'hy'la," I reply, and he pulls me down from my superior height to place a kiss upon my lips. I have longed for this contact in its absence, and join our fingers as I allow my consciousness to wash over the familiar planes of Jim's mind.

I realize suddenly that this is my eternal Paradise. Living here with Jim, to stay at Jim's side always. And it could never have been any other way.

* * *

**Thanks for all your support! I love you all! Check out my other story More Than Coincidence Less Than Destiny if you've got a minute! I'll see you in the f****andoms! **

**Qapla'!**

Listen, listen I will take a whisper if that's all you have to give.

But it isn't, isn't you could come and save me

and try to chase it crazy right out of my head.

I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name

like a fool at the top of my lungs.


End file.
